It's nowhere in here
by mochafrap
Summary: It's the morning after Halloween. Massie wakes up to find herself in an unfamiliar room. It's a room that is two floors up where she should be. Not Cam Fisher's room, but Derrick Harrington's!
1. One

**We never really know.**

* * *

"Wait one second, Mass," he said, fumbling with his keys. Why were there too many? Which was which? There has to be _one_ key for everything—cars, house doors, vault locks… In his drunken state, Cameron Fisher managed to make a mental note to add _universal keys_ in his Inventions for a Better World list, along with _lightsabers_, and _teleportation machines_. Like he'd remember _that_ the next morning.

Massie Block made no reaction. While Cam was already in front of his door, she on the other hand was also heavily intoxicated and in between the elevator doors so it remained open. Massie's body had given up. She could only walk so long (and the both of them have for several blocks to get to the building!). As soon as they entered the building's elevator, she was thoroughly tired and didn't care one bit that she was sitting on its floor.

Halloween was over, and it was two o' clock in the morning. The pair just came from a party thrown by their friend Mikal. The party was fun like usual. It was a small intimate gathering, just their closest friends in attendance. Like most night-outs, Massie went home with her bestfriend Cam. Cam often looked after her. The problem now is that Cam, too, got carried away with alcohol. He didn't want to go all the way to Fifth Avenue where Massie's house is at this hour just to drop her off. They decided instead to head to Cam's 74th street penthouse to end the night. And so here they were.

Cam's struggle in distinguishing his keys took minutes. "Got it!" Cam exclaimed, finally opening the door wide. He turned and walked back to the elevator. Surprise. Massie was no longer in between the elevator doors to keep it open as how Cam left her. The hall was empty, the elevator doors were closed, and no drunken Massie was in sight.

He immediately pushed the down button. The other elevator opened, and he got in. Massie must've gone back down the lobby by mistake. His friend can be such a bad drunk. What was he thinking even leaving her? Alas, the lobby was empty. Cam was in the right mind at least to think of pushing the up button and wait for the elevator Massie was supposedly in. That elevator, too, traveled down and opened. Empty.

Cam Fisher had lost Massie Block.

* * *

The Gideon Graves costume was perfect. A slick white suit, red shirt, black glasses. This guy came from a different Halloween party. The night's over, and he wanted nothing more than to simply jump into his bed and eat bacon for breakfast the next morning. He pushed the up button on the elevator after making sure he had his keys ready and closed his eyes for two seconds of rest.

_Ding!_ The elevator doors opened. There was a girl inside. She heard the loud sound and hesitantly opened her eyes to see what was happening. Nothing seemed to register in her mind. She slowly closed her eyes again and returned to her dream-like state.

The girl was sitting on the elevator floor. She was wearing a pink dress—a Princess Aurora costume, actually, if you can recognize it—with a matching costume tiara. There was a small red apron on the dress. Her shoes were low-top Chuck Taylors. An empty coffee pot was beside her. The whole outfit was Sweet Dee's _The Nightman Cometh_ costume from the show _It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia_.

The surprised Derrick Harrington straightened his posture. Not only did he identify the costume (he gave a small grin at its cleverness, being an _Always Sunny_ fan himself), but he also knew who the girl is. It's Massie Block!

"Massie," he joined her in the elevator, pushed the button of his floor number, and tried helping Massie up. She didn't cooperate. She had obviously gone drinking and had passed out. Derrick had no clue why she was there of all places! She lives on the corner of 5th Avenue and 95th street.

When the elevator arrived at the Harringtons' penthouse, Derrick had to make a quick decision. Should he call the Blocks up and have her picked up? Should he get her back to her house? He acted on impulse. He carried her into his house. Massie was heavy… and Derrick noticed her hair smelled nice. This situation he found himself in was so surreal. He must be dreaming. Massie, in his building! This is definitely not real. For all he knew, he may be at the Marvils', snoozing at Merri-Lee's daughter's bed.

The Harrington residence was empty, save for the housekeepers fast asleep in their quarters. His parents were at their Hampton home for the long weekend. He had the house all to himself until tomorrow's weekly brunch with the Blocks and the Riveras. They were close family friends. He laid Massie down on a sofa, which was the first thing he saw upon entering the house. A bit weary himself, he sat beside her and paused to think. He'd probably transfer her in one of the guest bedrooms. He definitely wasn't in the mood to go out anymore. Massie will have to sleep here in the meantime. Both of them were still for a few serene minutes.

Massie let out a big sigh before gradually opening her eyes. Derrick awoke from his stupor. She was still lying on the sofa, her head on his lap. He looked down and saw Massie smiling faintly. She looked like she was still half-asleep.

If they weren't under the influence of a whole night's worth of booze, it would've been awkward.

"Hey, Massie," Derrick said, returning the smile. He didn't know what got over him. When one is drunk, he _is_ sometimes aware of what is occurring before him, yet he seems to have no control in what he is doing. That was the exact case for Derrick that moment. He stroked Massie's hair, which he found soft and smooth, while not breaking eye contact with her. A little part of him wanted to stop himself from what he was subconsciously doing. _She's your mom's bestfriend's daughter! She's Massie, for Chrissakes, Derrick!_ But he continued on. He knew he's flirting with her. He couldn't stop.

Massie closed and opened her eyes slowly. He wasn't expecting a response when she went, "Derrick Harrington." She recognized him.

"I like your costume," he said without thinking. No, he wasn't thinking straight at all. What he does remember is feeling an intense attraction to her. She was beautiful. Her makeup was not heavy even if it was Halloween. Her skin had that pearly sheen that one just can't help touching. And her eyes… they were a pleasant color of amber. He never noticed that before.

There was a glint of delight on Massie's face when she heard what he said. "Thank you," she replied. She stumbled to get up from her lying position. She sat up, her back against Derrick who remained seated on the same sofa. She took a look at his costume, and somehow, from her inebriated state, she discerned what costume he was wearing. Derrick sensed her palm was touching the back of his neck. Drunk people love physical contact. "Yours look nice, too. I would never imagine you to be a convincing Evil Ex-Boyfriend," her smile was big this time.

"You read Scott Pilgrim?" he asked, a major part of him pleased that she's familiar. Nobody else among his friends except Josh Hotz knew of this comic book.

"I do. Scott's a bit of a jerk, though," she replied.

This common interest was indeed surprising. There was a reason they ignored each other over the years. Derrick Harrington was in the popular crowd, and Massie Block didn't like his group. They were obnoxious and elitist and superficial—at least that's how they were perceived. Massie was perfectly content with her friends who may not be as wealthy and well-connected as her and Derrick's set, but are just as fun and interesting.

"You're drunk," Derrick teased. "I found you in the elevator." He couldn't help touching her hair again.

Massie wasn't the least bit embarrassed. "Yes, I'm drunk," she simply agreed. She became more aware of his presence. She couldn't get over his costume. It excited her to see a comic book character in person. She forgot it was Halloween. At that moment, she didn't remember the only reason he was wearing that was because it was _Halloween_. To Massie, it was Derrick Harrington _randomly_ choosing to dress like the 7th Evil Ex-Boyfriend for the day. He had done something epic in her books.

They both had smiles on their faces, looking at each other. She was stunning.

"Do you know? I find Gideon Graves so hot," she said biting her lip.

Hearing this pleased Derrick so much, it was unreasonable. He cupped her face, leaned down and kissed her.

* * *

A/N: I have done some editing and am re-uploading every chapter. Bear with me!


	2. Two

**A Different Environment**

* * *

Massie Block blinked. There are windows, and the rays of the Sunday sunshine were visible from them. _This isn't my room_, Massie quickly thought. _Nor is it Cam's._ She and Cam do not like sunlight in the morning. Both of their rooms have long heavy curtains to block out any unwanted natural light. Massie always woke up in full darkness, after which she would try finding the lamp switch with her hand. No, this was definitely unknown ground. There wasn't even a side table beside her. The wallpaper was beige. The curtains were translucent gray and red. There was a vinyl player on top of a slick mahogany table. Beside it was a rack full of records. In a corner on the floor were piles and piles of paperbacks. _Whose room is this?_

She turned to her right. It was a person. Her eyes instantly became round of shock. She was sleeping beside someone! She swiftly peeled the comforter covering her to see what she was wearing: an Arctic Monkeys shirt. That and her underwear. _At least I'm not naked? What did I do?_ She cupped her chest and felt a small ounce of relief. She was still wearing a bra. But wasn't she wearing a Halloween costume last night? She paused and tried sharpening her senses. Was she feeling any sort of pain? Aside from a slight headache, possibly a hangover kicking in… No. She didn't do anything regrettable with this person last night, _as far as she can deduce_.

Massie still had to face the inevitable. She had to find out who was in bed with her. He wasn't wearing a shirt. Massie prayed he wasn't naked under the covers. Quietly, she stood up and walked to the other side of the bed to get a good look at the unknown person.

It was like being splashed with ice-cold water first thing in the morning. Derrick Harrington! She was in Derrick Harrington's room! Confused and startled, she sat in fetal position on the couch between the window and Derrick's bed. She couldn't give Derrick a second look. _Last night… How did I get from Mikal's house? Where does Derrick live again—right! But… How did I get here? … They live in the same building. CAM! I'm supposed to get home with Cam last night. Did Cam bring me here as a joke? Is he here?_ She hurriedly checked the room. Cam wasn't there. She and Derrick were alone._ Why am I here? What the—_

Derrick turned but didn't wake up. Massie buried her face to her hands out of frustration.

_I have to get out of here. I need to borrow Derrick's clothes first, though. Where is his closet? Who would be outside when I leave the room? Oh no, what if Mark's at home?_ The thought of the older Harrington son Mark seeing her leave their house _in the morning_ and from _Derrick's room_ would be mortifying! Mark moved out since he graduated college. He still works and lives in Manhattan, but he visits his old home often. Massie had a crush on him growing up. Honestly, she thinks he's the more endearing Harrington child.

"Derrick?" somebody from outside called. It was a girl's voice. Derrick's sister is at boarding school, and it didn't sound like Cassandra Harrington, his mother, either. Massie started panicking. She was in an oversized shirt and in her underwear! In _Derrick Harrington_'s room! She heard steps and a grip to the doorknob. She had nothing to do, so she helplessly bit her lip hard and awaited her fate.

Lucky, Massie was! The door turned out to be locked! Massie quietly sighed of relief. The girl was still trying to open the door, as if a locked door would budge without a key. Massie tiptoed to Derrick's bed and had no choice but to wake him up. She shook him and whispered, "Derrick. _Derrick_."

He turned, saw her with half-closed eyes, and smiled. "Good morning," he greeted groggily.

Massie stepped away from him a bit creeped out.

"Derrick?" the voice was louder this time, accompanied by a knock. Derrick sat up and ruffled his messy bed-hair.

Massie pointed to the door with a look of urgency.

Derrick immediately got up. Massie forgot about the nudity-in-bed situation, but was pleased he wasn't naked under the covers after all. He was wearing boxers. Anyway, he looked around the room trying to come up with a plan. He found his closet door and opened it. "Get in," he murmured.

"Who is she?" she said a bit put out that she had to hide in the closet. What was she, a dirty mistress? She wanted nothing more than just Disapparate from this place.

"It's Dylan!" he mumbled.

_Her?_ Massie suddenly felt irritated upon finding out that Dylan Marvil was the girl on the other side of the door. She hated that girl with a fiery of a thousand sunds. In fact, the sole reason she and her friends had prejudiced impressions on Derrick's group was because of their association with the evil Marvil spawn. Dylan was the Madison Sinclair to Massie's Veronica Mars. The kind of loathing she had for Dylan was too much that in her presence, Massie feels flames behind her ears. _Flames._

Derrick closed his closet door softly as soon as Massie peevishly got in. He could not forget the death glares she gave him, which he returned with an apologetic look. As soon as the coast was clear, he opened the door and let Dylan in.

"What took you so long to open the door?" Dylan whined, strutting inside. Her perfume wafted in the air.

"I was asleep," he answered. His voice denoted a certain annoyance toward her.

"Your parents aren't here yet," Dylan informed him. She was holding an iPhone which she constantly checked. "You should've stayed last night."

"Didn't the girls stay at your house?"

"Yes, but you still should've stayed, sweetie."

"Meh. I wanted to sleep in my own bed anyway. I was tired." Derrick stretched and fell on his bed again. He was a natural at acting like there was no Massie Block inside his closet. Probably from years of hiding girls in his closet? "Why are you here?"

Dylan sat on his bed to get closer to him. "I was planning to have breakfast with you," she said with faux-sweetness, as if to mock the affection she was showing.

"We have brunch later at the Riveras, you know," Derrick said, not interested in whatever Dylan is up to. "I'm not done sleeping yet. Go eat with your friends."

"They don't eat."

"Maybe you shouldn't either."

Dylan smacked him lightly on the chest. "Your loss," she said then clacking her way to the door. "Call me whenever after your stupid brunch is over, loser."

"Don't come again," he slammed the door.

Massie emerged from the closet at once. She wanted to leave right away and get every strange thing that happened to her in the last twelve hours behind her. Derrick turned to her. "Hi, I'm going now," she walked around the room trying to find her clothes.

"Aren't you going to eat breakfast?" A secretive smile was on his face, and if that was a way to make Massie stay, it wasn't a good call. The smile just made Massie even more paranoid.

"Uh no, we have brunch later anyway if you want to eat which you don't," Massie said, looking away. _Where are her clothes?_

"That was just something I said to get _her_ off my back." He replied as if to explain. He was still sitting on his bed while watching Massie walk around his room. "Come on, there will be bacon." Massie identified this to be his flirty voice. From years of observation, Massie knew of this. She had to admit thought that the guy is master of charm, as if his good looks weren't enough.

"I _will_ be having bacon later, but not with you," Massie responded firmly. "Now can you please tell me where my clothes are?" She stared at him for response.

"Are you sure you're leaving wearing last night's Halloween costume?" Derrick challenged with a raised eyebrow. He looked like he was having a private joke with himself.

Massie hated that smirk on Derrick's face. She hated more that he made sense. It would be awkward for everybody to witness her Walk of Shame—she'd be in a freaking costume! But she didn't want Derrick to have the control in this situation. She refused to give in to his amusement. A non-sequitur reply would do. "Does my costume still have a coffee pot? I'm afraid I lost it. I was quite drunk last night."

He laughed at her witty retort. "Yes, I liked that coffee pot. I brought it home, don't worry." He observed that Massie may not be a morning person in her attitude, but she certainly looked attractive even if she just got up from bed. Her hair was messy, her eyes were bright, and he couldn't help looking at her legs. What appealed to him most was her nonchalance—even confidence—in such a state of undress. The Arctic Monkeys shirt looked striking on her. He wondered if she liked that band.

"Derrick, can I please borrow your clothes," she said in monotone because she had no other option. Thankfully, Derrick opened his closet immediately to look for something to lend. While he couldn't look at her in the eye, she jumped at the opportunity to subtly get a clue on what happened. She could remember nothing, but cannot and will not admit it. "Er, did Cam come by while I was asleep?" That was a safe question. Cam lived in the same building. He must've known she was there.

Derrick did what Massie was trying to avoid, which was eye contact. He had that impish smile on his face again. Massie wanted to stab him with any sharp object in sight. "Why would he come by?" Unfortunately for Massie, he was scrutinizing her face. "You _do_ know how you got here, right? What you were doing here? You were only 'quite' drunk, remember?"

Massie pursed her lips and prayed to the gods that her blush wasn't so obvious. She rolled her eyes and decided to suck it up. She finally looked up at him directly in the eyes as what he'd been trying to do. "No," she said simply with what confidence she could muster. Derrick looked triumphant; she ignored that. "I don't know why I'm here."

"You know what, I'm hungry. I really want some bacon right now. Shall we go to the kitchen and continue there?"

Jerk.


	3. Three

**The Walk of Shame.**

* * *

"I don't understand why you have to walk me to the door. Cam's house is two floors down." Massie Block put her left hand on her forehead, like she had a headache.

Derrick returned this gesture by wrapping his right arm on her shoulders and flashing one of his admittedly charming smiles. Massie noticed the faint scent of his cologne—like showers and aftershave—and the crisp and clean smell of his clothes' detergent. It felt familiar. She couldn't see anything clearly in her mind, but she recollected two separate instances that she was in contact with this scent: one _probably_ last night while _probably_ planting kisses on his neck, and two _probably_ early this morning when she felt someone _probably_ spooning her. She wobbled at the thought of cuddling with Derrick Harrington. Selective memory loss is the way to go.

She immediately shoved him away after removing his arms, and while she glared at him, she thought that Derrick was—and very much looked like—that guy who always smelled good. Say you're at a party, three hours in, and it's reeking cigarettes and alcohol and sweat everywhere. Then, he comes in, and he's like a breath of fresh air. That's the type of guy she wouldn't admit to but would categorize him as… the number one type Massie had a weakness for.

"Obviously, I'm trying to be—" Derrick was cut off. Both of them looked at the person who was at the door. She felt her cheeks burn all of a sudden. It felt like the gravity of the situation they were in fell upon their shoulders when another person was present. Cam Fisher was at the door. And how odd a sight that was for him! Massie Block in somebody else's clothes standing beside Derrick Harrington of all people.

Derrick was already showered and in his Sunday brunch attire (nothing fancy, just casual preppy clothing they usually wear). Massie refused to take a shower at the Harringtons because it felt weird.

She thought how when it was just the two of them—she and Derrick—eating breakfast in the Harringtons' kitchen, they were both more comfortable and even candid. Now that they were with someone who both knew them, the thought of them having spent the last several hours together was sickening.

"Derrick," Cam said in surprise.

Derrick nodded. "Cam." They knew each other from school and the soccer team, but they weren't exactly in the same "crowd."

Massie look at the both of them before barging in and pushing Cam inside. "Good morning. I have a problem with you, Cam Fisher!" Cam looked confused. He took a quick glance at Derrick then looked back at Massie, trying to connect things together in his mind. Massie realized she hadn't dismissed Derrick yet. She quickly turned back at him. "Oh, thanks, man. Bye!" She slammed the door shut without warning. Without even seeing him get to the elevator. She literally closed the door to his face. It was rude of her, but she couldn't take the awkwardness between them.

Cam Fisher had no clue what he started.

* * *

One does not eat breakfast with one-night-stands. But that was exactly what Massie and Derrick did after Dylan had left. Derrick was determined to get the breakfast he so wanted since he left his Halloween party last night. Massie had no option to impose if she wanted to know about last night. He was the only one who was at least half-conscious to remember what happened.

It turned out that it wasn't really a one-night-stand. They only hooked up and continued doing so in his bedroom. They ended up sleeping beside each other on Derrick's bed. Massie cringed the whole time Derrick told him about last night, so she didn't ask for any more elaboration. _They made out. That's it._ For her sanity, she imagined that she didn't undress for him. She will have to alter reality and pretend she had her costume on the whole night. (Of course, she hadn't.)

While she was squirming, he found pleasure, on the other hand, in teasing her and making her feel even more uncomfortable. He did so by constantly insinuating how hot she was. She was being made fun of! "Halloween didn't end up a bore after all thanks to you."

"Pleasure," Massie deadpanned, chewing on her bacon.

"I thought it was going to be a lonely night—just me in my cold bed sheets. And what a surprise, good karma's just around the corner—"

"The Lord gives back only to the worthy." Massie nodded.

"—the most gorgeous brunette Dee Reynolds one could find in the island! Didn't look like an ostrich or even remotely any sort of bird, which—don't worry—disappointed me only in the slightest— Can't have everything you want, right?" The _Always Sunny _character Dee Reynolds, which was the basis of Massie's Halloween costume, looked a lot like a bird.

"My earnest apologies for not looking like a bird."

"You have lovely eyes." He stared at her. Ah, Derrick has decided to directly flatter her.

She couldn't stand being ogled at like that—not especially when done intentionally to make her feel uneasy. She snickered (her way of dealing with flattery, even unwanted ones) and looked at him straight. "It's genetics. Be jealous."

Massie couldn't tell Derrick's real intentions in his teasing. Normally, it would be right to dismiss what he was doing as what a regular guy wanting to score would do (e.g., luring the target, flattering her endlessly). But she could also tell a very faint hint of something else, as if Derrick was mocking his womanizing ways, deliberately making Massie conclude that she was being played like any other girl.

She couldn't have any of it. She refused to wrap around her head that _Derrick Harrington_—that snobby little boy she grew up with—was attracted to her and was trying to add her to his list of bimbos, let alone so much as mull over whether there was some underlying motivation in his actions. She had decided to ignore him.

She did so by abruptly changing the topic. She commented on the Arctic Monkeys, apparently Derrick's favorite band. This led them to have a discussion about music (Massie liked the guys from Sheffield, but preferred The Strokes over them), films (Kubrick, Spike Jonze, Godard, Tarantino), and even finance (Ireland's need for bail-out at the moment, the recent lift in the Japanese economy). They had to talk about anything and everything other than the people in their social circles—the people in their respective "realities." Many times, Massie wanted to end the meal and leave and come upstairs to Cam's house where everything wasn't so volatile, but Derrick insisted to prolong the conversation. Not that she didn't enjoy the dialogue. He was a smart talker; she could tell he was well-read despite his wild ways. It was just weird that she's talking about these stuff with _him_. She didn't want to be in a vulnerable situation—which of course would be impossible, but… There were only few men in her life she could openly talk about these things with: her father, her first boyfriend Eric, and Cam.

She looked at Cam Fisher sitting on his desk chair, his legs lazily sprawled over the table. He was wearing headphones and reading a Jonathan Safran Foer title. Massie was sitting beside his bed and on the floor, scrolling through YouTube videos of football matches' goals and highlights from last night (which she all missed for the Halloween festivities). Her Blackberry, which she apparently left with Cam, rang. It was her mother calling. She clicked the ignore button and then realized she had an unread text message.

From Mikal. It read: **Are you awake? CALL ME! Don't you think of ignoring this message, Massie.**

Her left eyebrow shot up. What was Mikal's urgent message? She immediately paused her video-viewing and called her friend. "What is it?"

"Where are you?"

"Cam's, why?"

Mikal chuckled. "Well, what did he say about it this morning, then? Oh, and of course, how was it? Fantastic at the very least, I expect."

"What?" _Was Mikal referring to Derrick? Did she know about last night? What was going on? Did Derrick and Cam lie to her?_ After Derrick had left, Cam explained to her about how she disappeared in the elevator. He couldn't find her, and out of being a careless drunk, he assumed she took a cab home (that happened already once, and yes, Massie successfully went home in that same state). Massie told Cam that Derrick found her and let her sleep on his bed (and even lent her his clothes), nothing more. That was it. And yet, for all Massie knew, everything was a prank, a whole diabolical plan that ends with her spending the night with Derrick Harrington. Maybe Mikal planned everything!

"Cam!" Mikal said, annoyed that Massie was ruining Mikal's private fun over all these. "Don't tell me you're too drunk to remember." This erupted another energetic laugh from Mikal.

Massie quickly turned to Cam, who still had on his noise-canceling headphones and fully concentrated on his book. "What exactly are we talking about?" she asked suspiciously. _Cam? What?_

Mikal's suddenly exasperated eye roll would be heard if it could. "You didn't do it," she concluded with a sad voice.

"I do not understand, really." Massie was having a bad feeling about this.

Mikal must've caught up with Massie's cluelessness. "Last night, after my party, you and Cam went to his house, are you aware of that?"

"Yes, I'm _here_ now, aren't I?" Massie pointed out. She was a bit impatient to whatever Mikal was revealing. _I'm always at Cam's. What's different there?_

"Right, so… you're ruining the fun for me by making me point-blank ask you, but since you're so 'confused'… Did you or did you not have sex last night?"

Massie was shocked. "WHO?" She faced Cam, who was paying no mind to her.

"CAM! Who else would you be sleeping with?" Mikal guffawed.

There was a sense of relief that Mikal didn't mention—or wasn't even aware of—Derrick and the circumstances that involved him. And yet, the prospect of having _that_ kind of situation with Cam wasn't at all relieving either. So… "ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Why would I do that?" Massie raised her voice.

Massie heard her friend face-palm herself over the phone. "Massie," Mikal spoke very patiently, but chortled in between phrases. "Before you left my Halloween party last night, you and Cam told me about trying something new. You said that you have both been lonely for some time. Correct me if I'm wrong, but you mentioned that you discussed this after playing poker and over my aunt's whisky, the one she'd been hiding from us kids—she'll kill you if she finds out you drank it, Massie. Anyway, you proposed that you and Cam are practically one person, split in half, and who could be more perfect together? You added that 'taking it to the next level'—your words, not mine, you gross drunk, you!—would be just what you need." Massie cringed. "At the height of both your drunkenness, before I kicked you out of my house, you kissed in front of me and bragged to my face about the incredible sex you'll be having later."

Massie Block was speechless.

"You two kept on saying stuff like, 'last call for you to join! Take it or regret not taking it!' and 'you jealous?' So I slammed the door on both your faces," Mikal finished. "Well, what happened since then? Spill it."

Massie closed her eyes and sunk down the floor. "Nothing happened! This is ridiculous," she said to silence Mikal's persistence for answers. She stared at Cam who became conscious of her staring out of the blue. She looked away. "Mikal, can I talk to you later?"

Mikal sensed tension. "Ooohh—"

Massie hung up.

Cam removed his headphones. "What's up?" he said curiously.

Massie stood up and walked to the door. She had been in Cam's house since Derrick dropped her off—roughly two hours ago—and Cam never brought up what should've occurred last night. She vaguely remembered playing poker, drinking more alcohol, kidding around with Cam, then talking about sappy things, and of course, a door being closed loudly in front of them… But she had no idea she almost did something deplorable with Cam, her _best friend_, last night. How much does Cam remember? Was this an embarrassing moment they need not refer to ever again? Was this the start of becoming awkward with each other for _almost_ walking down that road? Massie found difficulty breathing. "Cam, I'm going to brunch. Call me."

And she quickly left without looking back. This is her way of dealing with things. She stalls.


	4. Four

**One's issues with one's mother.**

"It's about time, Massie," Kendra Block, her royal highness of primness and propriety, didn't seem to mind calling out on her daughter's tardiness in front of their friends.

Everyone turned to the lady who just arrived. _Everyone_. The hosts of the week the Riveras, which consisted of Nadia and Len and their children Eric (currently absent and at Yale for college) and Alicia (attending the same school as Massie). The Harringtons were complete for once: Cassandra and Steven and their sons Mark and Derrick and daughter Sammi (Mark was often MIA with his career, as is Sammi who goes to boarding school and only occasionally makes it to their brunches). Lastly, there were the Blocks; in attendance week in week out, only Kendra and Massie (Massie's dad William currently lives in France with his new family).

Kendra walked toward her daughter and led her to her seat just beside her. Even when livid, she still kept her cool. It ran in the family, that inner poise. They did everything with such composure and calmness. This quality only made everybody even more scared of her. Kendra Block is a powerful figure in the New York social scene. She is trustee of many prestigious institutions and landmarks. Everybody thought her mother to be ruthless and cold. She is.

Massie sat on Kendra's left. Alicia Rivera was sitting in front of Massie; she looked curiously at her, wondering what was going on. Beside Alicia was Derrick. Massie gave a nod and a smile to the youngest Rivera child and paid no recognition to Derrick Harrington.

"I have been calling. You didn't go home last night," Kendra said in a low voice, enough just to be heard by Massie and the two in front of them. The rest of them carried on with the conversations that were interrupted by Massie's arrival. "Where were you?"

Massie wanted to roll her eyes, but she didn't. Not to her mother, and not in front of their friends. It was funny that her mother even _knew_ she wasn't home. She was never aware of Massie's whereabouts. They practically live separate lives even if they share the same house. In fact, the only time she got to see her was during the brunches. "Wasn't I home, mother?" She started preparing her food. She took a piece of toast and a serving of sausages and beans.

Alicia and Derrick stiffened at Kendra's cold glare directed to her daughter. "I ask you a question in the hopes of eliciting a response." Her voice was stern and low, made more intimidating by her sophisticated accent.

Massie took time chewing her food. She swallowed and downed her water before giving a reply. "I was at Mikal's party, mother. Last night was Halloween." Derrick stared at her. Alicia felt uncomfortable witnessing a tense conversation. She observed the mother-daughter exchange and occasionally turned to Derrick to check whether she was the only one feeling awkwardness.

"Mikal Cook?" Kendra put down her flute of mimosa to inspect her daughter's face.

"She's the only Mikal I know."

Kendra didn't like Mikal. Massie met her the summer of the Big Annulment. It was before sophomore year. Everything was going so quickly. The Blocks didn't want much fuss regarding their family problems. Both parents permitted Massie's trip to London where her grandparents live. This is to get her out of the city for the summer while they settle the proceedings of the annulment. Massie was lonely, confused, and desperately in need of company. She was still dating Eric, but she convinced him not to go with her. He was starting college; she wanted him to focus on that. It was lucky she met a friend in England. She and Mikal met at a football match at the Bridge. They proceeded to a pub after the game to talk. She ended up having a wonderful summer with Mikal. They spent time together almost everyday. Their food trips were a big part of their developing friendship: they went out visiting all the various restaurants London had to offer. On lazy days, they at the Evans household (Massie's grandmother cooks very well) and at Mikal's older sister Kyla's apartment (macaroni and cheese, Chinese take-out, microwave popcorn). They went to clubs some nights, went to museums and cinemas, shopped at markets, attended gigs, met many people… Massie felt like a whole new person, one that didn't have so many issues with herself and with her life. She attended Chelsea's football matches every week (her mother didn't like her being such a huge football fan—"unladylike!"). Massie also traveled to Sheffield, Mikal's hometown, with no consent from Kendra nor William. Massie didn't care when she was reprimanded first thing she stepped home in Manhattan. That summer, she was free. And nobody could take that away from her.

Kendra wasn't to drop this. She was curious. "When will she get back to Sheffield?" She knew and had met Mikal already last Christmas when Massie invited her British friend over. Massie's mother was civil, but too busy and absent besides to express her dislike toward Massie's "unpleasant influence of a friend." It didn't help also that Mikal came from a middle-class family. But Massie knew that Kendra has an aversion to Mikal. For now, Mikal's living with her aunt in SoHo. Her university plans were still being arranged.

"A few more weeks. I slept at Cam's," Massie chose to tell her, just to get her mother off her back. Massie and Cam have been friends since middle school. They've remained closer over the years. He had been with her through the toughest of times: her parents' separation, her break-up with her first boyfriend, some weird and/or silly and/or significant phases in her life… those things. And she was there for him. They were inseparable. And Kendra approved of him. He was a fine young man of good upbringing and respectable connections.

"You spend more nights at his house than ours," Kendra said. "Are you dating now?" She instructed a maid to serve her tea. Alicia and Derrick turned their attention to Massie.

Massie grunted. Her mother knew nothing about her. However, Kendra was particularly sensitive about parenting criticism. Massie knew better than embarrass her mother in front of everyone. The truth is, since William Block left, the Blocks' Manhattan brownstone had morphed into a mere hotel room. Massie and Kendra only drop by to shower, eat, sleep… "He's my _friend_. That's all we'll ever be, mother." Alicia watched Derrick as he reached for his drink.

"I rather like him. I wouldn't say that with such finality, dear," Kendra said to end that topic.

_How would you know?_ Massie thought. She hated it when her mother pried and acted like she knew things. She took a deep breath to respond but was interrupted.

"So, your Grandmere called. Would you fancy visiting them up in London for winter break?" Kendra changed the topic before Massie could even have her say. She looked at the two in front of them. "Alicia, Derrick—of course both of you and your siblings are welcome to come, if you don't have other engagements in mind."

Derrick saw Massie's left eyebrow raised at her mother, who wasn't looking at her. She then did a small eye-roll and as if to mentally say, _Whatever, I'm dropping it_. She was dismissed in the conversation.

"Will you be going to England as well, Kendra?" Alicia asked to initiate a conversation. Kendra loved talking about her future engagements, especially if they were about her work for the Metropolitan Museum of Art and for her other affiliations. "I've heard of your plans to meet with the board up at Oxford at year-end?" She looked at Massie and winked at her, as if to say _I got this._

Massie grinned at her and sighed. She could finally eat in peace.

**A/N: Next chapter had been written and will be up in three days.**


	5. Five

**A new dawn**

* * *

Most parts of the brunch were over. Everybody was now having coffee and mints while engaged in their respective conversations. Nadia, Cassandra and Kendra were discussing end-of-the-year events in the New York City social calendar. Len, Steven, Derrick and Mark were talking about the new-found mines in Zimbabwe and the diamond industry. The three young ladies, Alicia, Sammi, and Massie, were on the more secluded part of the room. They were chatting about what teenage girls usually do: boys (mostly because of young Sammi).

"I'm so glad to see you two again!" Samantha Harrington hugged the sisters she never had. She didn't have many girl friends in her boarding school, for some reason. "Oh my god, what is this? Massie!" Breaking away from the hug, Sammi's face lit up. She looked like a regular hyperactive and perky thirteen-year-old for once (she usually appears more mature for her age).

Alicia touched the side of Massie's neck, almost at her nape. Massie winced. The two girls giggled and faced Massie. "What is _really_ going on with you and Cam Fisher?" Alicia asked in all seriousness, her left eyebrow raised. Sammi folded her arms to indicate that she'd like to know, too, and would be getting information from Massie no matter what.

"What is it?" Massie asked confused.

"It's a hickey," Alicia whispered, her eyes bright.

Massie froze and gently touched the part of her neck they were referring to. "Damnit, how does it look? I didn't see it this morning! Is it so noticeable?" She was so red with embarrassment. _Did anybody else see? Why didn't Derrick mention it? Did Cam see?_

Luckily for Massie, the side of her neck was hidden by her hair. Good call that she let her hair down for brunch! Alicia fixed Massie's hair to conceal it and lead the two girls to the wash room. She had to stop Sammi from cackling too much while they left. They were catching the others' unwanted attentions.

As soon as they had the wash room locked, Massie ran in front of the mirror and checked the mark. There it was: a rosy purple bruise. Massie turned even more scarlet.

Sammi energetically hugged her from behind. Massie could see the big grin on the young face in the mirror. "Massie, this is great! Quite frankly, I'm rooting for you and Eric together all this time… but I have no qualms for Cam Fisher!"

Alicia laughed beside them while freshening her make-up. "I'm not going to say I won't gloat, Mass. I've been telling you about this in a long time. I saw it coming!" Her voice was proud.

"Can we not talk about this, please?" Massie tried.

Too late. Sammi and Alicia were now talking amongst themselves about the stories they know of Cam and Massie which were possible "clues" of their hidden feelings for each other over the years.

"She was Massie's first kiss after all," Alicia wondered out loud. This resulted to a loud girly squeal from Sammi. It was the grade's first girl-boy party thrown by one of the Briarwood boys, Chris Plovert. Massie used to keep to her classmates at the all-girl Octavian Country Day private school. Her only male peers were the Harringtons' and the Riveras' sons—and she weren't that close with them either at that time. Massie met Cam Fisher for the first time at that sixth-grade party. Coincidentally, that was also the night they were forced inside Chris Plovert's young sister's bedroom for _7 Minutes in Heaven_. The kiss was a slight touch on the lips. The rest of those seven minutes were filled with silence and awkwardness. Eventually, before their time was up, they broke the ice and started talking—not kissing. Cam asked if she wanted to get Coke and pretzels after the game. They hit it off right away, hung out the rest of the party, met each others' friends and have been best friends since.

"What about Cam's guitar lessons?" Sammi brought up.

Massie chuckled at the mention. In the middle of sixth grade, Massie announced she wanted to form a band. She already had a name for it: _The Wilderness._ The only problem was she could only sing. Cam was engrossed with the idea that he learned to play the guitar for this project. _The Wilderness_ is still a two-person band, although it is only active when the two feels like it. They mainly do covers of their favorite tracks (Massie preferred ones by Camera Obscura and Metric).

"And Massie's first date with Kemp Hurley?" Alicia cracked up. Clearly, Sammi and Alicia were competing as to who has the most Massie-Cam stories to tell.

Massie shook her head with her face straight. "No, don't," she tried shutting Alicia up. It was obviously in the file _Something that didn't happen_ in Massie's mind's archives. It was mortifying considering Kemp Hurley is one of the people in Alicia and Derrick's circle. At the present, Kemp and Massie pretend the other doesn't exist. That's fine. He's an ahole anyway.

"At least Kemp's not _that_ bad," Sammi started saying. Kemp Hurley is friends with her brother Derrick. His being a douche is overlooked with the fact that he is hot. Of course.

The three girls all doubled up. Kemp Hurley was the first guy to ask Massie out. It was the summer before seventh grade. He persuaded Cam Fisher to set him up with Massie. Cam thought it was hilarious that Massie's got an admirer, so he obliged. Kemp acted like a complete jerk, parading the unapproachable Massie Block around to his friends (his fellow soccer mates, included). He must've thought that a "quick visit" to the Briarwood soccer field was a good idea to start a date. He was only using her to prove a point: that the great Kemp Hurley was the first one to land a date with their grade's enigma, Massie Block. Everybody was in awe; dating was new to them, and Kemp was Massie's _first_.

After that display, Kemp bought the two of them ice creams from this expensive ice cream shop. Upon receiving her cup of mint chocolate, she blew him off and decided to skip the movies as scheduled. She thought Kemp was so full of himself; she couldn't stand him. She was being used to build up his ego. Massie left him right then and there after he paid. She walked so fast that he couldn't keep up.

Cam was surprised to see Massie back at the field about fifteen minutes after she and Kemp left. The boys were curious why she returned alone and pissed off. Where was Kemp? She didn't say anything and only asked Cam to come with her some place else to calm her down. Once Cam and Massie had gone, the boys made fun of the Great Kemp Hurley and his fifteen-minute date. That was the end of it. It's clear, however, that if there was one boy Massie was comfortable with and who knew what to do with her for every situation, it was Cam.

"You two just go well together!" Alicia crooned. With Sammi's help, she then enumerated everything noteworthy about the duo—both "adorable" and "scandalous." Alicia recounted the latest, which was when Massie had to instantly become Cam's girlfriend to get rid of a stalker-ish St. Agnes girl. Massie had to grunt a, "Ha!" and shake her head and roll her eyes for the next minutes. She made a personal oath never to tell a single soul about this _one secret_ she and Cam have—it will absolutely give people the wrong message. What is that secret? We'll find out later…

After the energy died down, they worked on covering up Massie's love mark. They put on concealer and for good measure fixed her hair. A scarf would give it all away, and it didn't go well with Massie's outfit besides (reddish plum tartan dress from Carolina Herrera, a faint pink cardigan, a thin black belt that cinched the waist, dark purple tights, a light brown fur stole, and three-inch Manolo heels). They were intelligent, well-dressed and highly-regarded young women; their parents would have none of their parading their personal affairs in public.

The three dispersed back to the living room. Sammi joined the wives to talk about her classes and how much she hated boarding school, and Massie was approached by Mark. They discussed his recent business travels. Massie loved hearing travel stories.

"How are you today, Harrington?" Alicia asked, sitting beside Derrick who was in his lonesome at the brunch table. She took the last macaron on the table and bit on it.

"No, how are _you_ today, Rivera?" Derrick put down his phone and loosened his tie. "You and Josh together yet?"

Alicia hit him on the shoulder. "Shut up."

"No? That dense motherf-" Derrick chortled. He and Josh Hotz were bestfriends. Alicia was part of their social sphere at school. Derrick knew very well that Alicia had a thing for Josh regardless how discreet she was about it.

"Not here to talk about my failure of a dating life," Alicia interrupted his cursing. "Who's the next girl on the list, Derrick? I heard you completed the subcategory that is _The Girls of St. Agnes Catholic School_. Did _she_ take that particular womanizing achievement well?" Alicia was referring to the female population of this Catholic high school at the Upper East Side (Derrick's "project" for the fall) and how Dylan Marvil thinks about that. Derrick and Dylan went out for a year before he decided he wanted freedom. Dylan still held on to him like he was her property. They still sleep together occasionally. It was no strings are attached for him.

Derrick messed up his hair, something he did when uncomfortable or bored. "Oh, _very_ well. So well that the minx still won't leave me alone." As if his whoring ways weren't enough to repel Dylan and her issues for unwanted commitment.

"Tough luck, child." Alicia mocked, even patting assuredly Derrick's shoulder. "Do us a favor, and keep it quiet. We don't want another Marvil rampage. We had enough for one year."

"Yeah, yeah, I've got all my bases covered." His attention was not fully in the conversation anymore. Derrick was now staring at the brunette from across the room talking to his brother. She really was a cheerful conversationalist. Even with all the uneasiness of their situation this morning, she still talked to Derrick during their breakfast like she usually did with other people. Her charisma and candor were spot-on. She looked like the type of person who brought the sun wherever she went. Sure, she was mysterious in that she's aloof by default, but to the people she already knew and liked, she's a firecracker. How could he not see this before? He grew up with her. She was the inevitable staple in his life, and he hers. This was the first time he felt being drawn to her. He knew Massie wasn't a morning person, yet during breakfast she radiated this energy, so compelling, even addicting.

Alicia saw who Derrick's object of observation was. "We're just getting ready to leave," she told him. "We're going to get our nails done. I have to find a salon that has a streaming website or a flat-screen TV. I need to do that in an hour."

"What's going on?" Derrick tried sounding casual. He was curious about Massie's whereabouts and activities. He couldn't help himself.

Alicia sniggered. "Oh, Massie being Massie. She needed to watch this football match live. She always catches games every weekend. Didn't you know that?"

Derrick shook his head, a little surprised by this discovery.

"Kendra got mad at her for spending most of her stays in London watching those football games, right? Chelsea, was it? Jeez, what kind of a friend are you? You _should_ be paying attention to your friends' interests. You shouldn't be indifferent to girls you're not hooking up with. You're being repulsive." Alicia loved lecturing Derrick of his immaturity. She felt superior to him, like she was his older sister. "Massie is _obsessed_. She watches every weekend with Cam, and when he's not there, she forces me to watch with her. I don't pay much attention to it, though. She likes talking to someone during games and giving commentary. She is so desperate for a buddy to watch with that I even caught her once in front of a game Skyping with someone she met _online_. She said her buddy was this graduate student from California. The girl she was talking to was a _complete stranger_ from _across the country_! On the _Internet_. She's insane." She laughed to herself, obviously amused with her friend.

Knowing more about Massie made him suddenly realize why his spontaneous decision to walk Massie to Cam Fisher's door that morning. It wasn't just because he wanted to spend as much time as he could with her, it was also to spare her of the Walk of Shame. He didn't want to make her feel regretful, dirty, guilty, shameful or empty, as how the girls he slept with feels when he kicks them out of the house in the morning (no actual kicking involved, mind you). Of course, there was no sleeping _in that sense_ last night, but he noticed how Massie felt almost offended having to hide in a closet. Walking alone and facing Cam after spending the night with a _stranger_ was insult to how highly he regarded Massie. He wasn't usually this sensitive to other people's feelings… but today was different. _She_ was different.

He thought about this long and hard while Alicia hummed a familiar tune. Massie appeared to be excusing herself from his brother. She was leaving the room.

Until Derrick Harrington reached a conclusion: he wanted Massie Block.

Standing up took courage. It was liberating and exciting. He had not felt this since he started playing around with girls. It was like going back to the time before he found dealing with them easy. He felt renewed nervousness, like he was having a crush on a girl for the first time. He wasn't thinking at all as he followed Massie out of the room.

Alicia was surprised. She just asked him who was the next ones he'd pursue, and here was Derrick's response.

**A/N: As promised, here is the fifth chapter! Sixth chapter will be uploaded in three days. Also, please give feedback.**


	6. Six

**Stay away**

* * *

After a few kiss-hellos and chitchat with the two sets of parents (Cassandra talked to her for quite a while), Massie walked past the halls to the Riveras' balcony. This was the first time Nadia Rivera started hosting their traditional brunches again. At the end of sophomore year, Nadia's mother—Alicia and Eric's grandmother—died; she took it pretty badly, almost moving the entire family to Barcelona. Len and the kids didn't want to leave their lives in Manhattan, so Nadia stayed there and only went to New York for visits. Alicia was devastated to have her mother absent in their household. It went on for more than a year. Nadia only returned for good this fall. Of course, the two other wives in the group had to insist her to be host for a comeback brunch.

For Massie, this was the first time she'd gone to the Riveras' balcony again. The last time was before she and Eric broke up. When they were still together, this was their thing. It was a post-brunch activity. They'd look over Central Park and observe people going about their Sunday routines. There were afternoons when the snow fell, and they relied on each other for warmth. He would kiss her cold pink cheek, and Massie would breathe in the scent of his neck. She had all of Eric's perfumes memorized.

Massie felt a bit of nostalgia and loneliness. Those are the only things she wanted for her day-to-day life. A filling brunch and good company. She knew she wasn't bitter or jaded over her terminated relationship with Eric. They were happy while it lasted. They have moved on. Eric's a junior in college now. Of course he'd been dating—which he rightfully should. Massie heard he recently became a boyfriend to a girl majoring in Economics. Massie's negative feelings weren't because Eric's life had proceeded—Massie's had, too. She honestly didn't mind that he had a new girlfriend. She wished him happiness, the same happiness she wished for herself. Instead, these unhappy vibes were rooted in the fact that she was empty. She didn't know why she couldn't express how she felt. Maybe because it's not really real. Maybe she was just making herself feel bad so she could actually feel something and not just feel like a speck of dust floating in the air with no direction. She didn't know why she couldn't express how much her heart feels like a heavy rock. She was sad and lonely. These weren't real feelings. Nothing is happening. She was bored. She wanted to have something, _anything_.

Would it be wrong to give something unexpected a try? Would pushing it hurt?

She pictured him in her mind. Cam Fisher. He was wearing his leather jacket and the sweetest smile she'd ever seen. His eyes had different colors—one was blue, the other green. She tried remembering how he smelled. That is what attracts her when it comes to the opposite sex. She could distinguish one guy from another by scent, and a whiff was also her basis whether she was attracted. It might be a pathetic and irrational concept, but that was how she remembered people. She could never forget the guys she met who smelled best.

Massie supposed this was just one of her quirks. It had never failed her before anyway. Her first—and only—ex-boyfriend Eric smelled woody and fresh. They started hanging out during freshman year. The Blocks, Harringtons, and Riveras were on holiday in Buenos Aires. What resulted from a winter break of flirtation and intense gazes wasn't just a fling after all—they were together as soon as school started again. He smelled so good. She was hooked. Of course, not for how he smelled, but the smell was certainly one of the initial things that attracted her… the reason she bothered to get to know him in the first place.

Cam. They were the best of friends. Their close peers could say they were co-dependent with each other. In times of trouble, they were each others' comfort zones. As stated earlier, Massie could talk to Cam about everything—something she found hard to find among people around her. Massie could be unpredictable at times, yet Cam always knew what to do.

_Would this be a pathetic thing to do?_ Massie thought. Dating her bestfriend? That would be unknown territory. _Am I even attracted to him?_ By instinct, she automatically tried remembering how he smelled like. A few seconds, a few inhale-exhales… She couldn't think. None. No record. She saw him practically every single day of her life, but here she was, the odor-fetishist, having trouble putting in her mind how Cam Fisher smelled. _This morning. Think about this morning. How did he smell?_

A different person popped in Massie's head. That person's scent. Traces of him filled her mind… very addicting. She couldn't help smiling at the thought. It was fresh, woodsy, refreshingly masculine scent… with a blend of citrus and herbs and rich spices. She could smell his energy. Feelings of warmth and absolute ease came with this scent. _This isn't Cam._

"Massie?" came a voice from behind her.

She turned back to see who just went out in the balcony. Derrick Harrington. She wanted to laugh at herself for being ridiculous. Here was the best-smelling guy she'd encountered, right in front of him on cue. Right when she was unknowingly enjoying the recollection of how he smelled. Upon this realization, she felt a little troubled. _I couldn't be attracted to this guy._

"Hey, are you all right?" he asked. She looked uneasy when she saw him. He stepped towards her and noticed her backing away. He sounded concerned. He was curious. He wanted to help.

"Sure, I'm great," was Massie's delayed reaction. It took her a while to absorb that this was the first time—from what she remembered anyway—one of them had approached the other. They never really acknowledge each others' presence in get-togethers like this. It was as if they go out of their way to ignore one another. She didn't have any explanation why she does it; it was instinct, like it's better not to deal with something one cannot deal with.

"I heard you're watching football later…" Derrick tried, at the same time mentally cursing himself for not being as slick and smooth as he usually was. _Stupid. Idiot._ "What game is it?"

She raised her left eyebrow. Massie, always skeptical and over-thinking. She checked her watch. "Uh, I'm going inside," she said while avoiding eye contact, obviously choosing to ignore what he seemed to be proposing. Massie stabbed her finished cigarette on the small stone fountain beside her, like she and Eric always did. She turned to leave.

"Don't," Derrick stepped back to stop her. She gave him a questioning look (as if to say, _Are you seriously doing this? Do we really have to go through this—what you're trying to do?_), so he loosened up. "I'm talking to you." His right hand was about to touch her hair. She prevented him from doing so.

"I'm going," she started rejecting him. Cornered, she looked apprehensive. She attempted to leave again. He blocked her. He went closer to her, his face inches from hers. He smelled so good. It was intoxicating, enough to pull her to him. She couldn't help looking at his lips. She was mesmerized. She felt his hand brush her waist and stop at her bra line. This jolted her from the trance. She broke free from the proximity. "Don't do this."

"What's wrong with you?" He finally questioned the tension between them. She refused to look at him directly. It bothered him how they couldn't be as relaxed as they were earlier at his house. "Why, are you with someone?" He noticed the hickey on her neck last night. He didn't do it, so it must be someone she's seeing. Is there something between her and Cam Fisher? That thought tasted sour, and he felt himself raging. But he immediately managed to calm himself with the consideration that he wasn't being serious anyway. No need to invest so many feelings and effort.

"Excuse me?" She looked him in the eyes this time. "What's wrong with _you_? You're not that desperate."

"Desperate? Do I seem to you as desperate?" Derrick was caught off-guard. He tried hard not to appear vulnerable.

"Come on, you can get laid anywhere." She was being deliberately crass to scare him off.

"Oh, so I'm only here for a fuck?"

"That never crossed your mind?" She crossed her arms.

"It didn't," he pretended to reflect on it. "Seems it crossed yours." He grinned.

Massie ignored him and continued. "If you can recall, we usually take no notice of each other. I'd like it to remain that way. You're making it difficult."

He didn't expect her to be so uptight and defensive. Why was she being so serious? "And I thought we consider ourselves buddies now," he said in his automatic mocking voice. He tousled his hair carelessly. "Didn't we have a blast this morning? You _were_ good company." He was making light of the situation. He knew Massie gets uncomfortable when being complimented. He could only hope she'd start taking it easy. "It is too bad if you're already dating someone else."

But no. She couldn't take his cocky smile. A bit flustered, she said without thinking, "Can you stop? I'm not playing with you."

"Who says I'm playing?"

"Go away."

"That almost hurt. Just when you've collared your _dream girl_…"

She snorted. "Your _dream girl_? We had drunken make-out during Halloween. Drop it."

"I don't know, I have a good feeling about this." Massie would think he is still mocking _the thing_ they had, but little did she know, a small, silent, secret part of him do have a good feeling about her and their situation. It's genuine. _There's just something there, something to continue…_ He's still unsure, but he's going for it. If only he'd stop being such a douchebag at it. What can he do? This is how he usually did things!

"I don't like you."

"And why is that?"

"Because you're a sociopath. Did that ever register in your head? Nobody likes you." _And the Academy Award for Driving People Away goes to Massie Block._

He was stunned by being called out like this so candidly. A little hurt for being thought that way, too. He had it coming. And yet, it was his douchebag impulse that had taken over when he reacted with an amused smile. "That's some imagination you've got. It's engaging. Tell me more. Can I take notes? I'll have to look over this with my shrink." _Smooth move, Harrington. You're being a jackass_, he scolded himself.

She rolled her eyes. "Shut up! I don't like you. I assure you we won't get anything we need from each other." She moved forward to him until they're only a foot apart. She could smell him again. But now, she was in control. "Don't talk to me again." They held eye contact for a couple of seconds. Her face was blank, his was in awe. She walked to the door. Fast. Before she gets enchanted by her embarrassing weakness. As if trails of him wasn't immortalized enough in her brain. She took a deep breath and didn't let go until she was safe inside.

Not wanting to catch another whiff of Derrick Harrington. That scent.

* * *

**A/N: I'm sorry for ripping off dialogues from _Mad Men_ and _Shameless_! Just in love with the wittiness, and I wanted to integrate them here. Please review if there are things you like or dislike. Suggestions and questions are welcome.**


	7. Seven

**Discontent.**

The school days that followed were strangely normal considering the circumstances of the previous weekend. It seemed to Massie that she and Cam have a silent agreement not to discuss whatever it is that almost occurred to them the night of Halloween. Usually, they openly address issues without awkwardness or delay, but this was one of those things that "never happened," and shouldn't be dignified with a discussion. To be honest, it made Massie a bit uncomfortable. Cam didn't seem to remember or mind. It's probably nothing.

As for Derrick, she deduced they were back to paying no heed to each other again. On Monday, she realized they had AP Chemistry lab together. It's funny how there are things she didn't care to notice before. Derrick Harrington suddenly entering the room was a big shock to her. At first, she readied herself to be gallingly "pursued." From what she knew, Derrick Harrington was an unrelenting ladies' man. By no means does she approve of being the flavor of the moment—_never_! Therefore, while she intended to continue a semblance of regularity in her day, she stood on her guard. Just in case. Having been acquainted with him all these years must have made her immune already, but that's not enough.

When he walked in, he had that smirk on his face again. Why does he look so good in his uniform? The cozy sweater, the crisp blazer, the green tie that strangely reminds Massie of aftershave ads in _GQ._ It didn't take long for him to notice her, and Massie shortly found herself having eye contact with him. As soon as she got back from her trance (only a split second, Massie hoped!), she subtly broke the connection. She didn't look away immediately because that would mean she _was_ staring. It was a relief her lab partner Erin was already seated in front of her. She could revert her attention back to her. "How was your Halloween?" she inquired casually. But what could she do? Derrick Harrington's aristocratic nose, his lips, his chin, his neck… it was etched in her mind even if she should be doing something else, like talking to Erin!

He continued looking at her. She could see from her peripheral vision. _Was he walking toward her?_ She tried hard to ignore her heart beating frantically. He was approaching her seat. Will he pause for a chat? She is in no state to engage in witty banter with this jerk right now! She tried listening to Erin's stories from the weekend when Derrick reached their table. She held her breath. He was still looking at her, but…

Derrick did not stop at all. He continued his walk to _his_ table. He _passed by_ her without a word. She didn't dare look at his direction and simply nodded to Erin and to whatever she was telling her. _No, I'm not disappointed. Why would I be?_

"Ah, Chemistry with Dietrich. I do love my Monday mornings," Massie heard him say to _his_ lab partner before the sound of his bag thumped onto the tiled table. Massie didn't know anything about Sara Dietrich except that she transferred to their school last year from Berlin. The blonde was rather attractive. And good in Chemistry.

"Good morning, Derrick Harrington," Sara said flirtatiously.

Massie tried focusing on Erin to drown out Derrick's presence and Sara's annoying giggles.

* * *

This went on for the rest of the week. Massie became more aware of the many times she sees Derrick in a day. It was like she had a tracking device. She was prompted whenever he was in the room. She tried stopping herself from being alert each time he was near. Who cared? Nobody! _He_ doesn't. What changed? Nothing changed. He wasn't doing anything nor was he saying anything. They haven't interacted at all as was usual. What was her problem? It was an irritating impulse, one she was glad she could hide very well. She was sure she acted ordinarily for everyone's eyes. Inside, though, she was going mad.

On Thursday, she cursed the gods that she found herself behind him in the cafeteria queue. Not once did she get too close nor look his direction. Her eyes were concentrated on the food. His friend Josh Hotz was in front of him on the line. She couldn't help overhearing that they were talking about: _Game of Thrones_.

Of course, Massie had to commit a faux pas. She dropped a fork while getting one from the utensils holder. It noisily clanged onto the marble floor. They turned toward the source of racket. She groaned. As it was within his reach, Josh picked the fork up and handed it to one of the cafeteria staff. "Thank you," Massie muttered. Josh nodded and paid for his food. Both boys have already turned away and proceeded with their conversation.

Massie put down her tray on Cam's table. "Is Game of Thrones really _that_ good?" she started conversationally.

"It's a medieval piece," Cam replied after closing his book. He waited for Massie to arrive to start on his meal.

"I know that," she said. She noticed Alicia Rivera sauntering toward her group's table. They nodded at each other with a smile.

"Generally positive reviews. As it should be. The show is expensive as hell. HBO's got big bucks."

Cam then started telling her about having a collaborative project and finding a muse. Photography is one of his passions. Massie has tagged along countless times in his shoots, of course, but this was solely Cam Fisher's _thing_. After all, they don't spend _all_ of their waking moments together. "Cool, I'm fine with being your muse again," Massie said after his tirade.

"That's fine, Mass. I'm already starting the search."

"Yes, and you can _stop_ the search now. I'm here."

"This will be different," he said. "I put up a notice on Craigslist."

Massie laughed. "Brilliant!"

"No, _no_, this is good. I posted it on _Missed Connections_. It's fake, though. But you know how some people read that section like it's McSweeneys? We'll see who'll take the bait. Surely, someone will pretend she's the one I'm looking for. I'll convince her to be my muse. Here." He handed her his Blackberry.

The Missed Connections read:

_**Last night was Halloween (SoHo)**_

_I was with you at the party on Spring Street last night. We shared many "nice" moments. You slapped me before we parted. You kissed my cheek. I lost you thereafter. Your eyes wrote an epic love story to me. I hope we get the opportunity to write a sequel._

"How did you come up with this?" she drawled. Halloween with Cam Fisher flashed in her mind instantly.

"I don't know. It just came to me after the party. Anyway, whoever contacts me regarding _that_ will be my muse," he said excitedly before taking back his phone. "My deadline is on Sunday, after which I'll post a new fake Missed Connections."

"We have a football game with the girls from St. Agnes. I can't come with you," Massie said.

"You shouldn't come anyway," Cam replied. "It'll ruin the search."

Massie hit his arm. "You still love me anyway!" She slowly took a sip from her drink while she observed the people in the cafeteria. She caught sight of Dylan Marvil standing up from her seat across the room and caressing Derrick Harrington's shoulders as she passed by.

She and Cam looked at each other. "Of course I do," he said earnestly.

She simply smiled. She knew where that Missed Connections idea came from. The party on Spring Street was Mikal's Halloween party. _She_ was the girl who inspired Cam's fake _Missed Connections_.


	8. Eight

**A friend in need**

_**Sunday, around 6PM, one of the hallways, St. Agnes's Catholic School, New York City**_

Slowly, she opened the shower room door and peeked into the hallway. Empty. She inched out for a better look. Until… "Massie Block. Without clothes. Again," a voice came from behind her. She turned to see who it was. "This is becoming a habit." Derrick Harrington walked over to her and folded his arms in front of his chest. When he and Katrina Fitch were staking out waiting for Maddie Schroeder's call, he wondered why Massie didn't leave with her friends. Turned out, she was still here. He was surprised she played in this football match. Complete coincidence. He honestly didn't expect to see her outside of school and aside from their brunch.

Massie's hair was dripping wet. She felt a chill down her spine. Her left hand held on to the towel covering her, tightly. "I didn't realize you're still around."

Her reply seemed to pique his interest. "Ah, so you _did_ see me earlier. Not even a wave hello, I thought we weren't friends anymore."

_Oh great. This banter again. _"We aren't."

"Ow," he mocked hurt before chuckling. "Hurts _every _time."

Massie groaned as she threw all the dignity she had to the side. "Hey, as much as I'd like to leave you alone forever now, I need help, and you're the only one here."

"I'm flattered."

She showed him her drenched Blackberry. "I have no choice."

It's a long story how Massie ended up naked on a Sunday in an empty hall of a school she doesn't even go to… and Derrick Harrington is the only one to save her.

* * *

_**Thursday, 10AM, Briarwood Academy, New York City**_

Katrina Fitch: _Do you have MSG tickets for Sunday? MGMT will be there. For two, please. It got sold out pretty quickly. Sux_

Derrick Harrington: _Depends. What do you have for me?_

Katrina Fitch: _I know my pathetic sister has something of yours._

Derrick Harrington: _O RLY?_

Katrina Fitch:_ She won't know. Can you get me tickets?_

Derrick Harrington: _I can if you want it that badly. Will I be getting my watch back for sure?_

Katrina Fitch: _You're in luck, son. Maddie's playing soccer on Sunday at school. Be there at the field at 3. We really want to go to Madison Square Garden that night, ok?_

Katrina Fitch may not be the better-looking twin, but she is the cooler one, in Derrick's opinion. To be honest, she caught his eye first before her sister Kristin did. Bad news: Katrina doesn't "play for the same team." Before he made his move on her, he found out that she's been 'best friends' with Madison Schroeder. No chances there.

Good news: her twin sister Kristin wanted him. Good enough for what he initially wanted. That didn't last for long, though. Kristin was great, but that's only until she started acting controlling and crazy. He had to break it off before things got serious. One of the downsides in the affair was that he left an important family heirloom in Kristin's possession: a Gallet chronograph watch that belonged to his great-grandfather. The girl refused to give it back. It had been months. He's been talking with Katrina for word on his prized inheritance.

As it happened, the sisters don't get along. Katrina stopped reporting any leads. Until now. Finally.

* * *

_**Sunday, almost noon, The Blocks' Penthouse, 5th Avenue, New York City**_

This week's Sunday brunch at the Harringtons was uneventful if not for the inclusion of Cynthia, Derrick's grandmother. The 72-year-old kept the conversation alive especially for the ladies, which comprised of only the mothers, Alicia, and Massie. (Sammi was at boarding school.) Cynthia doesn't visit often, not wanting to leave the Harrington estate back in Greenwich, Connecticut.

Alicia and Massie always enjoyed the woman's company. Was it strange that Massie feels more at ease with Cynthia compared to her mother? In fact, Cynthia knows her more than her mother does. She knows many little facts about Massie like her favorite breakfast, random hobbies she was good at, and her strangest quirks (such as the fact that she throws up when she's jealous, that she counts to 100 when she brushes her teeth). Cynthia was very close with Massie and Alicia that she regarded them as her own granddaughters. She's the cool grandmother, the kind who gave the kids their first taste of alcohol (summer of seventh grade) and who told them stories about her past lovers.

Today, she told about where she was and what she was doing at the time of JFK's assassination. This was because Massie just watched an episode of _Mad Men_ last night about that historical event. Cynthia had a lot of stories from the 60's. Massie specifically took note of these, being interested in the decade.

Massie knew Derrick was close to and particularly fond of his paternal grandmother. It was one of those things she didn't realize she knew about him. During their families' travels together, he would take time to send a postcard to his Nana. When they were kids, she could even remember helping him pick one. When and where was that? Third grade in Zermatt, was it? Massie was sure it was from when she and Derrick were still talking to each other—before that indeterminate time in elementary school when things changed.

When _did_ things start changing between them? They were friendly as kids. They hanged out when they had to. It was probably when the Harringtons moved to New York from Connecticut. Or the summer before that. There was this sudden awkwardness between them. Almost like they silently decided not to speak to each other. Whatever it was, Massie had long resolved that it was better this way. Nobody was compelling them to be friends anyway.

Like right now. Even though Derrick was seated beside her while listening to Cynthia, he didn't have to talk to her. Or pay attention to her. He was even only assigned that seat by her mother. He was acting the way he usually was. He asked her to please pass the marmalade, and she did. Everything's back to normal. She managed not to flinch when his arms unintentionally brushed against hers. _It is better this way… but why did he have to smell so good?_

* * *

_**Sunday, a little past 4PM, soccer field, St. Agnes's Catholic School, New York City**_

Massie left right after brunch for the scheduled football game with some girls at the St. Agnes's Catholic School field. Mikal and a bunch of their friends set it up. They were playing against Mikal's stepsister Lydia and her classmates. Several St. Agnes girls were present at the sidelines. It wasn't an official game, but Lydia was supposedly popular in her grade. She's a junior.

Second half was underway. The game was intense. They were two goals up to St. Agnes's one. She was in the middle of marking a rival midfielder when Massie saw someone familiar sitting at the bleachers. She was astonished for a second until she mentally reprimanded herself for reacting that way. She put back her focus on the play. Still… He was watching the game! Had he been here the whole time? Massie casually glanced at him and found the reason behind his attendance. He was sitting by a pretty brunette with the cute pixie cut. She was assuredly from St. Agnes. Typical.

She pretended he wasn't there.

* * *

**_Sunday, 5PM, soccer field, St. Agnes's Catholic School, New York City_**

"Why didn't you tell me?" Massie whined, kicking a nearby bush at the path to the St. Agnes building. The game just ended, and they were walking back to the shower rooms. She admitted to herself that she was being clingy, but how could Mikal do this to her? "Isn't this some sort of betrayal of friendship?"

Mikal guffawed. "Sorry, Mass. Tell you what, I'll call Alex and maybe you two can get tickets. He might know someone." That she did. After Mikal put away her phone, she confirmed that the guy is still in the vicinity and can help Massie out. "You're lucky he watched our game today." Alex and Mikal used to date yet remained friends.

The away team won (that is Massie and Mikal's group). It's not a few minutes after the final whistle, and Massie just found out about her friend Mikal's plans after the game. She was going to the MGMT show at Madison Square Garden later that night. She had two tickets—but the other one wasn't for Massie. Instead, Mikal reserved it for this guy Jeroen, some Dutch she met a week ago. Massie can't help feeling upset. She wanted to attend the show. It's not like she'd cockblock the couple. She'll be off their grill the whole night if they wanted privacy. She just _needs_ to see MGMT. Not to mention, she didn't have plans for the night. Where was Cam anyway?

"You'll have to meet Alex outside now," Mikal said.

"You're not coming with us?" Massie asked. She is friends with Alex, but she was expecting Mikal to come with her.

"Alex brought his bike. It can ride only two. You have to be quick," Mikal reasoned. "His friend Matt was selling tickets. He's not sure he still has them. You need to get to Matt."

"Don't tell me you're not coming with me because you just want to meet Jeroen early for your date?" Massie saw through her friend. "Like I said, _betrayal_!"

Mikal giggled. That _was_ her intention. She needed to prepare for her date. "I'll go ahead and shower. I still love you."

Massie rolled her eyes. "Whatever," she said before throwing her bag to her friend. "At least bring that in. I'll be back."

"Good luck!" Mikal watched her friend run outside.

* * *

_**Sunday, quarter to 6PM, entrance, St. Agnes's Catholic School, New York City**_

Massie sighed. "Thanks anyway, Alex," she said, disappointment in her voice and getting off his bike.

"Sorry, Mass. You want me to beat up that Jeroen into giving you his ticket?" Alex joked.

She snickered. "Don't. Mikal will beat _you_ up in retaliation."

"Ah, that brings back horrible memories," he replied in a mocking voice.

Massie wondered why Mikal dumped him. He was very funny.

"Are you going to be fine there? You want me to wait for you? Mikal said she already left," Alex offered.

The St. Agnes building seemed empty. Mikal and all their other friends have left. Most likely also the St. Agnes girls. She still had to go back in to shower and change. Her stuff was in there too. "No, it's OK, Alex. You go ahead." It was already nice of him to drop her off. She didn't want to keep him.

Massie entered the building while trying to call Cam. Maybe he could meet her and watch her sulk for not being in MSG. She called him repeatedly after every busy tone. She already reached the shower room.

He wasn't picking up.

* * *

_**Sunday, quarter to 6PM, one of the hallways, St. Agnes's Catholic School, New York City**_

"How did you get her combination?" Derrick inquired. He, Katrina Fitch, and Madison Schroeder were currently loitering the grounds of a deserted St. Agnes hallway, specifically in front of Kristin Fitch's locker.

"I wanted that MGMT tickets hard enough, I found ways," Katrina proudly answered. She continued spinning the dial of the lock.

Maddie, who was standing beside her, grinned. "It was me who wanted to see them badly. You think their music is so-so, Kat." She deliberately stayed behind and had to be the last one to shower, so Derrick and Kat could pretend to wait for her outside. She called them as soon as the coast was clear.

"I do not! I _love_ MGMT." Kat diverted the topic. She turned to Derrick. "I pretended I was Kris, and I lied about forgetting the numbers. Sister Natasha can never tell us apart." That nun was the one sitting on the students help desk at the office. Katrina opened the locker and retrieved the watch. "Here you go, lover boy."

Massie tightened the towel covering her. She was certain her shower took only ten minutes. The place was deserted, but here right in front of her was a mess. Somebody went through her things! Her Longchamp Le Pliage tote was ransacked, her makeup scattered on the floor, the contents of her wallet also everywhere.

_My clothes._ Both the change she brought and the soccer kit were nowhere. A pair of socks and her white Prada loafers were the only clothing left. She looked around for her clothes, checked for any open locker. None. What she did discover: on the sink with the plugged drain and filled with water, her Blackberry. The liquid fried her device. She was naked under her towel! With no working phone! With just a pair of socks and shoes to wear!

She had never been a victim of bullying before. Whenever there was trouble, she chose to ignore and stay away from it. Her friends have informed her some people envied and hated her, but she tried her best not to be in anyone's business to warrant actual conflicts. It looks like her haters were only looking for opportunity.

She needed help. But who will rescue her?

* * *

_**Sunday, half past 6PM, one of the hallways, St. Agnes's Catholic School, New York City**_

"You should've matriculated at St. Agnes, Block," Derrick Harrington said while admiring Massie Block fully dressed now in the Catholic school's uniforms. Katrina was the same size as her, and it was fortunate she kept a set in her locker. Navy blue skirt, long-sleeve white shirt, a tie—which Massie wore with what remained in her bag: her blue knee-high socks and the white loafers.

"I've thought of that, but you know, Briarwood had boys."

"Can't say I have the same prerogative considering I study here," Katrina Fitch smirked. Massie noticed her friend Maddie linking arms with her. The two girls had matching pixie cuts.

And now Massie got it. These two were an item. "Oh! You two? … I thought… earlier at the game, you and Derrick—"

The two girls laughed.

"I dated her twin," Derrick explained with a shy smile.

"Classic." But that didn't explain why he was there in the first place, what his business was. Massie was careful not to sound too interested. "I still don't know who did this though." She gestured at the uniform she was wearing.

"Many girls from this school hate you, Massie Block," Maddie alleged.

"I don't remember what would merit me enemies here."

Katrina thought of someone. "This junior Abigail particularly dislikes you. Do you know her?" Massie took time to recall. Kat continued. "Blonde, huge bitch, wears nothing but Burberry. She had—_has_—the hots for Cam Fisher?"

"I think I know her," Massie replied, although she now had full recollection. Abigail Whitehead was pulling the moves on Cam last year. He didn't like her, so he and Massie pretended to be a couple whenever she was around until she took the hint. It was immature of Cam, but that was the way they managed for a stubborn girl like her. She's pitiful.

"Will you be taking revenge on the bitch who did this?" Maddie asked excitedly.

"Nope. Better to do nothing. This is cheap. I pick my battle, kids. There will never be enough mops in the world to soak up all the stupid."

All four of them laughed. Massie noticed the amusement in Derrick's face. She tried hard not to smile.

They exited the building. "Well, we'll leave you two to it. We have a date with MGMT," Katrina said, waving.

"Is _everyone_ going to Madison Square Garden tonight except me?" Massie griped.

"I got them tickets," Derrick said, still looking at the direction the girls went.

"You can get tickets and you're _not_ going? Are you an idiot?"

Derrick rolled his eyes. "That's not a very nice thing to say to someone who helped you during a crisis." Massie's face instantly looked guilty. He smiled. "You owe me."

Massie became cautious. "What do you want?"

"Go out with me."

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the delay. Please leave me your thoughts.


	9. Nine

**The world is not conspiring to be nice to you.**

* * *

"Go out with me."

It did not take a split second for her to answer. Naturally.

He scurried after her. It was an unusual spectacle—Derrick Harrington running after someone like a desperate paparazzi. "No? Why not? How about now? You have nothing to do later, do you?" Screw being smooth and acting chill! He could hardly contain himself when he sees this girl. He was bursting with energy. All week, he had been occupied with the thought of her. Everything in the room revolved around her presence. Nothing of his cunning ways worked on her anyway. He didn't care if he was acting like a fool. Perhaps she'd see his sincerity, and pathetic as it might make him, if that didn't work, _so be it_. He was just going for it. He won't _rationalize_ shit.

Massie scoffed. She hated that he was right about her lack of plans.

"I'm already out. You're already out. Let's stay out together."

She laughed. Possibly at him. He joined in, snickering, because he knew that was lousy too. Normally, he'd be over it. If there was something Derrick learned beforehand when it comes to other people, it's that you do not _insist_ yourself on others. If they don't like you, hey, it's fine. There are so many others out there who'd want you. It doesn't work if it doesn't work. But now, he felt like he _had_ to make it happen. Today was the perfect opportunity to let her know he's into her. This was his chance. _If you're not willing to risk it all, then you don't want it bad enough._

Derrick didn't know where she was going—they've reached Central Park now. She did not look back at him, but she didn't drive him away either. He appeased himself with that thought, until not a second later, she stopped.

"Do you believe in miracles?" she asked, her amber eyes fixed at him.

It was a question he wasn't sure how to answer, but he did right away. "Yes," he answered with a hopeful look.

Of course she'd crash that hope. "Not today," she said with a glacial expression on her face, even shaking her head a little as to mean _no_. She continued walking.

Little did she know, he caught the small smile on her face just as she turned away. Massie Block was making fun of him, and she seemed to be enjoying it. They walked in silence for a few minutes. Then suddenly, something caught his attention. He grabbed her hand and dragged her.

"What the hell?" she exclaimed, surprised. They were now amongst a group of people dressed formally—evening gowns and black-tie—facing one direction.

"Family this time, quickly!" a photographer with a British accent hollered. He waved to indicate hurry as people scuttle into position. It was a big family, but they were no more than 15. In front and center were a radiant African-American woman in white and a handsome blond in a suit. Many other people were alongside the photographer with the tripod; they had cameras in their hands as well. Massie felt Derrick entwine their fingers and give her hand a light squeeze. Upon realizing what this was about, she brightened up and couldn't suppress a chuckle.

"Let's do it," Massie stated.

For the next half hour, they photobombed the wedding photos. They trailed the throng of the fresh-married couple's friends and family and walked into their pictures. All over the park. Every location, every shot, they were in it. The older ones (doubtlessly the couple's grandparents) who they stood beside with thought they were actually part of the group.

Derrick watched Massie beam at the camera after she posed closer to an elderly woman in a pink suit. "Massie," he found himself saying. The girl looked at him not with the usual rough expression she seemed to have reserved only for him since recently—she appeared delicate… as if she didn't mind being with him now. "Your face… you have a face for a smile, you know."

She cupped his right cheek, smirked, and bit her lower lip. "You dork." She slapped him gently before turning back to face the camera.

Did he just say it out loud? He was obviously going mad.

* * *

Massie Block could not believe the day she was having. She won a soccer match and then got ditched by her friend. Her clothes got stolen, her phone soaked, her credit cards snipped. She almost got stuck in an empty Catholic School naked only to be rescued by this guy she had a one-off with a week ago. And now, instead of watching MGMT at Madison Square Garden, she was walking leisurely at Central Park with that same boy and photobombing a newly-wed's photos. She's hanging out with _Derrick Harrington_. And she's in a St. Agnes uniform.

She looked intently on the ground as Derrick wrapped his dark blue wool scarf around her neck. The scarf was warm, and it smelled like him. She wanted to scream in gratitude. But of course, she didn't. "I don't know with today. Today is weird," she started after sitting on a bench. She picked up a dried red leaf and tore it in half.

"I thought this is the type of day that happens to you a lot, actually." He sat beside her.

Massie scrunched her eyebrows. "What? I wish! I'll have you know, my iPod shuffle's the only spontaneous thing in my life," she muttered.

"I don't find you boring at all, if that's what you're saying," she heard him reply. He said it so matter-of-factly, she almost believed it.

"Sure," she sniffed.

"You don't handle compliments well, do you?" He gazed at her and was surprised her cheeks suddenly showing tinges of pink. "If I may give you a piece of advice, don't over-think and just take them as it is. Sometimes, people say things because it's true to them. Not all good things said about you are a scheme to sway you."

That one was hard to take in because it made plenty of sense. "I understand," she said softly.

Derrick snickered. "Good, we've established that I like being with you."

"So what is this? We're going to start hanging out? Third base at the school bathrooms if you're lucky, sticky glances at the hallways? I've said it before and I'll say it again, I don't like you that way." Massie spoke of this firmly, ignoring her rapidly beating heart.

He wasn't expecting anything from her. It's true that she already said she wasn't interested. It still hurt when she said it again. He decided to respond honestly, no embellishments, no cushion to his wounded ego, just the truth. "Massie, you're fun. I enjoy having you around, and that's all there is to it."

She felt her cheeks heating up again. It was so annoying how flustered she was capable of making him. He just says things that blow her mind, and he did it so casually. "OK," she managed to answer. _OK._ She'll just let him stick around if he wanted to do it so badly.

She didn't know what to say next, so they were quiet for a moment. That gave Massie time to calm down. It was odd because she now felt comfortable with him, even when not talking. She didn't realize he could feel so familiar.

"If you were stranded on a desert island, and only had a 120GB iPod, what 3,000 albums would you take with you?" he asked all of a sudden.

Massie doubled up and smacked him on the shoulder. "Don't ask that question because I can and will answer it!"

Neutral Milk Hotel's _In the Aeroplane Over the Sea_ was the first album she named. Afterward, they went to Shake Shack to get cheese fries and frozen custards. While there, they bumped into Mrs. Braff, their Sociology teacher. It meant one thing: their quasi-date/walk home was ending. Because of Mrs. Braff, Massie remembered the paper she had due tomorrow. She was supposed to meet Cam to study!

Massie rummaged her bag for her phone. "I need a replacement," she sighed. She inspected her dead Blackberry.

Derrick tossed his iPhone on the table. "Here if you need it." She stared at it, hesitant to touch it. He sipped his milkshake. "Go ahead. It doesn't have a passcode."

She slowly reached for it like it was precious. Derrick found that amusing.

**4 Missed Calls. 6 Text Messages.** And several other notifications from his apps. Derrick never checked his phone the whole time they were together. She disregarded the notifications and tried placing a call. She got voicemail. _Again._ She wasn't really comfortable leaving Cam Fisher a voicemail in front of Derrick, so she sent a text instead.

**Cam, it's Massie. WRU? My phone's broken. Are we still on for tonight? I'm coming over your house in a bit. You might not be there yet, but I'll wak by anyway.**

"Thank you," she said giving Derrick back his phone. "You have unread messages in there, by the way. Many people must be looking for you."

"Not enough of me to go around, sadly," he joked.

"I'm selfish. I kept you all to myself." She genuinely had no idea what made her say that.

"It's been a pleasure, don't worry."

She couldn't help herself. "Likewise." And for some reason, Christopher Owens's voice started singing in Massie's head.

"You ready to go?" Derrick asked. Has his eyes always been this piercing?

Massie stood up. _I really wanna be your friend forever, friend until the end of it all…_

* * *

**A/N:** I was supposed to write different scenes, but the ones here just stretched out longer than I intended. I hope you enjoyed reading anyway! Please leave me your thoughts. The last quotes in italics are from the _Girls_ song Laura. The frontman of the band is Christopher Owens. Try listening to that song if you want!


	10. Ten

**Who pulled the trigger?**

"There you are!" Massie Block poked Cam Fisher at his arm. She parted with Derrick at the end of the block as soon as she spotted Cam. Her bestfriend was standing idly by the front of his building. "I've been calling you all day." She gave him a hug.

He looked thrilled to see her. "I'm glad you're here. I want you to meet som-"

A blonde walked over to them coming from inside. "I'm all set," she said and then noticed Massie. "Your friend, Cam?"

"Yes. Claire, this is Massie Block. Massie, meet Claire Lyons. She's in our year but at St. Agnes Catholic School."

The girls exchanged smiles and shook hands. You could tell Claire was a low-key person. Aside from being quite small, she was only wearing distressed jeans, a brandless sweater, a cap, Keds, and very minimal make-up. Her blonde hair was down and a little frizzy. She was holding a bag of gummy feet.

"She responded to my Missed Connections," Cam told her eagerly. He relayed the story of how they met. Apparently, Claire also had this habit of reading random Missed Connections posts. Cam's post intrigued her, and her friend Layne Abeley urged her to show up and answer it. It was just for a good laugh. In order to identify each other, he would have a bag of Claire's favorite gummy feet, and she a bag of Cam's favorite fruit-apples. They made sure to meet somewhere public, just in case one of them turned out to be a perv or a serial killer. Fortunately, the stunner in the black coat and with a bag of gummy feet wasn't a creep. He was her age and had the most amazing eyes Claire had ever seen. She confessed that she wasn't the girl he was searching for, and he admitted that of course she wasn't because the whole thing was a fake. They hit it off right away. She walked into the café with Layne and walked out without her.

Massie got distracted by the loud sound of heels on the concrete pavement. She looked left. A girl with flaming red hair passed by, one she recognized—Dylan Marvil. In the new season Gucci, no less. She stopped suddenly and waved at someone.

"Hey!" Her greeting was boisterous. She walked to Derrick Harrington, who found his way home only now. Massie could see from behind Cam that the redhead had kissed Derrick on the mouth. "I missed you today. Did you get back your watch?" Massie heard her say.

"Yep, I did. Katrina could've gotten it back ages ago. She was just waiting for an opportunity to get a favor from me in exchange," Derrick replied.

Dylan had bangles on her arms. She made them clang. "That Kristin Fitch just won't let you go, huh? God, those Catholic school girls are pathetic. Please tell me you're done with them."

"Cam showed me what he's working on now," Claire shared dotingly, getting Massie back to their conversation.

Something came over Massie. She felt nauseous. _Claire had been to Cam's room?_ To get to the adjoining room where Cam kept his art, you have to pass by his bedroom. She had never set foot in that store room, albeit it tempted her every single time. It was always closed and locked whenever she was over.

"Are we getting dinner together?" Dylan cooed.

"I don't think he needs to worry. The exhibit will be great," Claire added. Cam looked bashful. Massie was having trouble breathing now. A bit. Why was she growing pissed out of the blue? And disappointed. It was a whole mixture of emotions.

"A _proper_ dinner, Derrick. I don't want to order in pizza. I'm not a dude," Dylan bleated. She whacked his leg with her Fendi handbag mischievously.

_You know, in the Most Annoying People Hall of Fame, this girl has her own honorary corner_, Massie thought. It was silly because she barely knew her. "I-I haven't seen Cam's project yet," Massie slowly said, getting dreadfully uneasy now. "He hides it from me." She tried to sound like she was teasing Cam because she was. But she certainly did not get the right tone of voice for it. She felt like choking.

She could see Dylan Marvil stroking his hair and Derrick swatting her bangled hand. "I just want to go home, Dyl. Hey, don't touch my hair," he said. Massie pressed the top of her stomach.

"I do?" Cam wondered out loud. It seemed like it just dawned on him. He put his arm around Massie and pulled her to him as to side-hug. "Aww, Mass, if you want to see it, all you have to do is ask. Why are you shy?" He even messed up her hair. It was _such_ a friendly gesture.

Claire looked like she felt left out. That's one thing Massie noticed about her: she was transparent. The girl changed the subject and asked, "Massie, why haven't I seen you at St. Agnes before?"

"Fine! We'll stay in. But for everything else, _you_ do as I say!" Dylan playfully pointed at Derrick. Massie caught him rolling his eyes with a slight grin as the redhead went to shuffle him in.

"Oh yeah, why are you wearing a St. Agnes uniform?" Cam inquired. He thought she looked weird in them.

Dylan stopped shoving Derrick to the door. She spotted the three of them. "Is that…? Unbelievable! _Massie Block moved to St. Agnes?_" she shrieked.

Cam and Claire both turned to the source of the ruckus.

_I'm going to throw up_, Massie thought, her hands getting clammy.

Cam squeezed her shoulder. "Hey, are you OK? You look sick."

Feeling light-headed, Massie broke free from him and ran to the street drain a short distance from her. There she let it all out.

* * *

Massie kicked her Macbook onto the far side of her bed. She couldn't write her paper. She still felt unwell, and it was unusually cold in her room tonight. She minded to switch off her phone and keep it at a place she couldn't see. She was in no proper condition to interact with other people at the moment. She'd like the rest of her Sunday night hiding.

Which was why she ran off after vomiting in front of Cam and Derrick's building. Classy. All the four people there who knew her were concerned. Naturally, Cam fussed. Claire appeared worried even if they just met—Massie thought that was nice of her. Derrick ran to her to help, but Cam was already pulling back her hair. Even Dylan Marvil showed slight unease ("What is she on, Derrick?").

She was a cesspool of various emotions just then. She wanted to get away until she made sense of them all. She flagged down a passing cab, waved Cam off, and zoomed to 5th Avenue and 95th. She collapsed on her bed and booted up her Macbook with the intention to start school work.

She was pissed, although that was unjustified. Pissed for what reason? She was disappointed. At what? Was she jealous thus the vomit? This was all confusing. Massie knew she constantly dealt with bouts of manic-depressive psychowank. But she absolutely hated it that she couldn't tell when they're about to set in. One minute, she was a Happy Meal then the next she was humming some requiem? Unlike milk with her cereal and Coffeemate with her coffee, that didn't make sense to her at all.

There was a soft knock to her door. "Massie? Are you in there?" It was Cam. He followed her without delay. Was Claire outside too? "Come on, Mass. Open up!"

She took a deep breath and got the door. He was alone.

Cam seemed very troubled, but she observed relief in his face when she opened the door. Like he was glad she was still alive, at the very least. "What's wrong?" He touched her forehead to check her temperature.

"Minor indigestion. I think. It's nothing. I already Googled it. It's nothing," she dismissed by lying. She returned to bed.

Cam sat beside her. He knew not to press her. Massie hated being the object of a commotion. "How are you feeling?"

She didn't respond. Not even a change in facial expression.

And for some reason, he understood what she meant by that. "What do you want to do?"

"I don't want to talk about today or anybody. I don't want to talk about my unwritten Sociology paper." Massie thought of Cam's day with Claire, and hers with Derrick. And then seeing Dylan Marvil. She was in no mood to think about those. "I don't want to talk about my St. Agnes uniform," she said, the right side of her face lolled on her pillow. "It's a funny story. Let's save it for when I can laugh all I want without feeling like I'm going to pass out." She lied on her side.

"You know as well as I do, you won't survive Catholic school." Cam could not help a small snicker. She buried her face onto the pillow to stop herself from chortling. He snuggled next to her. "Hey, do you want to watch _Dead Alive_?" His gentle hand on her shoulder and the prospect of watching a 1992 movie rated Restricted for its outrageous gore—Massie found herself infinitely better.

He couldn't see Massie's smile because she wasn't facing him, but he knew when she stroked his hand that she approved. Massie moved closer to him. His chest felt so cozy and good on her back. All the bad things she was feeling seeped right off. Just being in close proximity with him, she sensed a strange entity waft through her soul. She was suddenly overcame with joy and comfort. For Massie, it was the sweetest thing someone can do for her. That when she contacts you regardless of convenience and time and ask if you can meet (either one of you can come over) so she can put her head on your chest while smoking a cigarette, _say yes_. Cam had always been there for her.

"Cam," she asked after minutes of basking in each others' warmth and stillness. "Remember when we first fought?"

"Hmm. What fight exactly was that?"

Massie made circles on the back of his hand. "In Broadway? You were livid. And I just laughed and walked away."

He had a recollection now. "You're evil. You left me," he said.

"I did. And I didn't say sorry." Massie smiled faintly. "I never say sorry."

They were children (read: immature), and it was when they were about to watch the Broadway show _Spring Awakening_. She forgot her ticket at home. Cam was the one most excited to see it, but he insisted that she take his ticket and go ahead to catch the start of the show while he retrieve hers. Massie was resolute that _she_'d be the one to go back. She sensed his annoyance, and she didn't like it that he was holding in something that was clearly bothering him. She folded his ticket and threw it at him before stomping off to the direction of her house. "MASSIE! You got my ticket wet!" Cam shouted. True enough, when Massie looked back, she saw that his ticket landed on a puddle. She knew she acted like a c-nt. If the same thing happened to her, she'd be seething. Regardless of all that, she found herself laughing uncontrollably. It was impulse, and everything was just too funny. It landed on a _puddle_. _You got my ticket wet._ She could not stop. She walked home, recovered her ticket, and went back still laughing. It didn't take a while for Cam to find it funny as well. Her laugh was infectious. They made up because of Massie's oddball humor (or her inability to control her sniggering). Just like that, they forgot their troubles.

"You got my ticket wet," Cam fondly recalled his exact words that night. They laughed. It was still funny after all these years.

This was what it was like when Cam and Massie fought. Fights lasted a few seconds, a couple of minutes, an hour… At times, they went on streaks. They went a full week arguing. Other times, they went a long stretch without. It varied. Cam was very sensitive to her feelings. He apologized when it was his fault. She was always the more stubborn one. She never admitted when she was in the wrong.

But each time, they found ways to forget their troubles. Just like that.

Because no trouble ever was worth what Massie and Cam had.

**A/N:** So, who did you think she was jealous of? And which girl annoyed her?

If you are also interested, on my Bio page you can see how I picture the Clique characters. I have character/s on there that I haven't mentioned in the story yet. That's a spoiler for you. Please review!


	11. Eleven

**All's fair in love and war.**

* * *

Kristen Gregory slapped her paper marked with an A+ on her desk. That woke up Derrick Harrington. He usually took a nap ten minutes before Calculus. It was a peaceful school day, the week was just starting, and everything was going well so far. _So far. _The blonde threw her backpack onto the floor making a thud. Can she be any noisier?

"Do you mind? Some of us are pondering the meaning of life, KG. I'm in the middle of a breakthrough. This is a delicate moment," Derrick complained at the girl who just took the desk in front of him. They weren't best friends, but they've been classmates for too long to warrant friendliness. Plus, Kristen was your typical overachiever on crack (no, drugs weren't here thing, but she was a hustler when it comes to school activities). Derrick being the way he was—popular, charismatic, and upbeat—was that kid who was most wanted in the school. Get him to go, and everyone was sure to show up. He was like Troy Bolton from _High School Musical_, no kidding. So it was natural they'd have this sort of familiarity.

"Get lost," Kristen shushed him. "And _don't_ call me KG, DH."

Massie Block took the seat next to her, dropped her books, and face-desked. Derrick saw she was scowling when she entered the room.

"What's wrong?" he asked. Massie remarked that they were _that_ kind of acquaintances now. They could even be considered _friends_. In Monday's Chemistry, for instance, he smiled at her as he walked in. At lunch on Tuesday, he commented on her turkey wrap. And now, this. She didn't mind entirely, and she didn't dislike it. But this thing with Derrick just made her uneasy. Nervous, even.

"None of your business," Kristen answered for her.

Derrick snorted.

Both girls ignored him. They seemed to have an important matter to discuss. Massie was so angry, something about Mrs. Braff and a paper she thought she wrote well. Derrick smiled because of her remarks. They were cutting but funny. He'd bet Massie would make a feisty girlfriend. She was so adorable. And he was being silly right now. _Stop being so smitten. Stay cool, soda pop._

Kristen consoled the brunette. "She can be very unfair sometimes," she said, trying not to saying anything overtly negative about teachers. Because they _were_ still their teachers.

"Unfair? You got an A!" Derrick took this chance to chime in. He pointed at Kristen's own paper, which the blonde immediately covered with a book.

"Uh, we're not talking to you, asshole," Massie said, suddenly feeling like directing her rage to an innocent bystander who didn't deserve it. But it's _Derrick Harrington_. How innocent could he possibly be?

"Doesn't change the fact that you two are disturbing my pre-class time peace and quiet!" he pointed out after quietly laughing.

Kristen made a face. Massie looked like she dropped whatever she was about to retort. She went back being bummed about her paper.

"Block, cheer up," he tried reassuring her. "This is just one shitty time we'll strangely feel nostalgic for in the years to come." He didn't expect Massie to be someone who'd feel sad over homework. But he could tell she worked hard on it.

Kristen checked her watch. It read _11:11_. "Mass, look! It's 11:11. Hurry, make a wish. Wish for Mrs. Braff to get harassed by a homeless man later."

Derrick snickered. "In one corner of the world, we have people creating self-replicating synthetic life and discovering super-volcanoes in other galaxies. Meanwhile, there are people making wishes at 11:11, thinking they will come true." That made Massie grin, and he saw her.

But true to her habit of not expressing amusement, she looked snobby again. "Derrick, _we_ are talking, and _you_ don't belong _here_," Massie gestured at herself and Kristen.

"Massie, _we_ are having Calculus, and _she_ doesn't belong _here_," the blond taunted back, gesturing at himself and the whole class.

It was true. Kristen didn't go to that class. The two girls glowered at him.

With no comeback for Derrick, Massie returned to her previous problem. "_I. DON'T. DESERVE. THIS. C-!_" she cried. She hit Derrick with her rolled up Sociology paper multiple times to express her anger.

Kristen looked puzzled because these two weren't chummy before. She remained quiet, anyway.

"Massie, you are a walking ton of misplaced rage," Derrick said with strange interest.

"Who's shrinking me now?" she replied was a throwback to when she made an admittedly rude commentary on Derrick's personality a few brunches ago. She turned to her girl friend. "Can I use your phone, K?"

"You still haven't got a new phone?" Derrick asked. It was already Wednesday. She lost her phone on Sunday.

"No. Too lazy to get a new one," Massie dismissed. She thumbed Kristen's mobile. "K, why don't you have Dune Baxter's number?"

"Why would I have his number? He's _your_ friend," Kristen answered stiffly.

Massie chuckled. "No, he's _your_ friend, if I remember correctly."

"You probably don't remember correctly," Kristen insisted looking away.

Derrick burst into laughter. Kristen glared at him.

Massie shook her head with a mocking grin. "OK. Fine. He's not your friend. Geez." She didn't know Kristen was on bad terms with Dune. The last time she checked, they were doing great. Must be a bump on the road. But she decided to make fun of Kristen anyway. "Right, he's _my_ friend. But only because he's like, such a babe." She fluttered her lashes for added effect.

Kristen smacked her on the chest. This hurt and made Massie howl.

Yet, Massie egged on. "He is as hot as the flames of the hell we bitches are going to." She fanned herself.

The blonde smacked her again. "I wouldn't have known him if not for you, Massie." She folded her arms.

"Don't blame me. Blame Landon! I wasn't friends with him in the first place. He was!"

Kristen held up her hand as to signal _shut it_. "So no, I don't have his number." She took back her mobile. "And you can't call him using my phone either."

Massie quickly snatched Kristen's mobile and ignored her friend's protest. "Let me call Landon, at least."

"Get your own phone, Massie. My god," Kristen rolled her eyes. She was obviously now in a bad mood after the subject of Dune had been brought up.

"Don't be stingy!" The brunette hummed while waiting for Landon Crane to pick up.

"What's up with you and Baxter?" Derrick inquired. He knew those guys were in the lacrosse team.

"Nothing. He's a douchebag," Kristen said.

She proceeded with her call. "Hello, Landon. You're coming on Saturday, correct? Well, I think it'll be cool if you bring your friends over too… What? Quit being an ass. You'd know this voice from anywhere, honey. I don't have my phone right now. _Anyway_, that's not important. As I was saying…" They heard more of Massie pleading about people going this Saturday night.

"I don't care. Quite frankly, I have no time for him," the blonde stated.

"I like you better when you're not so bitter," he joked.

"I'm _not_ bitter."

Massie hung up and returned Kristen's mobile. "Ha! Those idiots. On Saturday, I will be getting lots and lots of dollah-dollah billz."

"What's on Saturday?" Kristen asked.

"I just convinced my dear boy Landon Crane and his buddies to show up. And their mere attendance is already guarantee of my cash! Hell yeah." Massie high-fived Derrick and Kristen excitedly, although both looked clueless. "You don't get it? Those guys suck at poker! Half the time, they don't know what they're doing." She was excited and cocky, which well suited her.

"And you do?" Derrick went.

Massie laughed loudly. She patted Derrick's shoulder a few times. "You have no idea, darling." In her frenzied state, she took her C- paper and crumpled it into a ball. "Yep, I'm so over this." She threw it at Derrick's desk.

"And Landon is not aware of this trap how?" Kristen asked. Landon Crane dated Massie at the start of junior year. It was brief, but they became good friends following that.

"Oh, he knows. It's the first thing he knows about me, actually." Massie looked like she remembered it with fondness.

"And he's still going on Saturday?"

"All's fair in love and war." Massie turned to Derrick and smirked at him.

* * *

**A/N:** Please give me comments. I need ideas to make this story better. I'll be all ears, I promise. What do you want to happen? Do you like Kristen? Sorry she showed up only now. "He is as hot as the flames of the hell we bitches are going to," is a line I lifted from Scott Pilgrim by Bryan Lee O'Malley.


	12. Twelve

**Slipping briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered**

* * *

_Flipping a coin not for its verdict,_

_but to borrow it's resolve_

_to choose a side and remain on it._

_But for now everything is up in the air._

_Yet you make love,_

_not decisions._

_The coin hangs between us._

_Won't you tell me what you want?_

The box enclosed a red rotary dial phone—like the ones every office desk had back in the '60s. The note with the poem wasn't signed. She found it on her study table when she arrived home from school that Wednesday. She had a sneaking feeling, and that intuition was pointing to one person. She plugged the phone anyway. It was still a cool gift.

_Won't you tell me what you want?_ That line stayed in Massie's mind for the rest of the night. Just before sleep surmounted her consciousness, she had one final thought: _he_ knew what he wanted.

* * *

He called the next evening at around ten o'clock. She knew he would, but she was still caught off-guard. She thought he'd be out somewhere.

"Block!" he greeted eagerly.

"Harrington," she replied. "What do you want?" She wanted to clutch her heart, she couldn't take it.

"You happy with your new phone?"

"Yeah, you saved me from the long line at AT&T. It's nice you think I'm lazy."

"I support that virtue only because it's flattering on you."

"Ha ha. Very well. Goodbye." She needed to hang up _now_ so she could breathe!

"You're always welcome, Block."

* * *

On Friday night, at ten o'clock, they didn't talk on the telephone. Only because she was at the Harrington foyer instead of home. And he was next to her waiting. She tried not to smell him, although he was quite close to her.

"This is lame, Block," he said after three minutes of idle sitting.

"You don't have to sit with me. Go do your homework or something."

"On a Friday night? Just so you know, _mom_, your son is not boring."

"Don't you have a hobby? How about cook something? I have a friend who can whip up good pasta."

"He makes his own pesto? That's pretty cool, Block. I have sex sometimes."

Massie sniffed. "Whatever. Watch MTV or go blogging. Kids do those things these days." She pushed him off the gray chaise lounge, so she could lie on it like she owned the place.

Derrick stood up upon getting kicked off. He folded his arms and faced her with a look of worry. "You're more socially-impeded than I thought. You said you can't stand to be with _me_ but you're here because you don't want to run into a girl who you don't even care about."

"Surprise," Massie said mutely.

Derrick Harrington was nothing but astounded to see Massie Block on his door that night. She said no other details as she barged in, only that she was on the way to Cam Fisher's but she was here now to avoid someone there. Supposedly a _girl_ was downstairs.

"Why didn't Fisher tell you she was coming?"

"I didn't exactly clarify whether she was in attendance or not nor is Cam required to give notice. She normally isn't present, so I assumed." Massie was picking on her lower lip.

"Who is this girl anyway? Your ex?" Derrick thought it was possible.

"_No._ She's Cam's friend." She folded her legs, and that gave space for Derrick to sit down again on the chaise.

"And you don't like her because…?"

"I don't _dislike_ her. I just don't particularly like her. She's too nice!"

"You're still not making sense. You don't want her there because…?"

The thing with being with Derrick, she always found herself in a situation where she ought to say things honestly and directly. To lay all the cards on the table and _spill_. She was awfully used to stalling, keeping her feelings to herself, and not saying what she actually meant. "I don't want to talk to her. I don't want to be nice to her. I don't want her to be anything other than an acquaintance, OK? Because I don't think I want to be friends with her!"

Thank goodness they didn't remain silent after all that TMI, or Massie would've died blushing then and there. "All right. But are you always like this to people who you consider 'too nice'? Or just this girl?"

"You ask too many questions. I think they already left, so I'm going home." She abruptly stood up and made her way to the elevator.

"Walk you back?" Derrick was fast to trail her behind.

"No!" she said without looking back at him.

"Suit yourself. You're always welcome to stop by, Block."

"Yes, when I get another momentary lapse of crazy like today."

"Good, I won't be waiting long then."

"Very funny." She slipped into the elevator and waited for it to close. "Good night, Harrington."

Derrick waved at her.

* * *

"What's up, motherfucker!" Cam Fisher walked into the room. Massie Block rolled her eyes then thought to finish off the remains of her martini. _Oh, now he shows his face._ He was late. Fortunately with no Claire Lyons with him. If he brought _her_ after ditching her Friday night, she'd kick _everybody_ out.

"_Conchatumadre_!" greeted Landon Crane. The lacrosse captain was a dark-haired boy with cheekbones that could cut a bitch. He did not put his cigarette down as he stood up and gave Cam Fisher a bro hug. The four other guys in the room did the same. They were: Dune Baxter, one of the most popular in the lacrosse team especially for his sweet tan and sandy blond hair; Dempsey Solomon, who up until this semester was in the Briarwood soccer team; Conner Foley, who was their age and who used to study in Briarwood until he moved to LA to become a famous actor; and James Johnson, the new import of the team from London.

The girls said their hellos: Cory, Massie's friend from St. Agnes who had blond hair now; Rumi, a half-Japanese alumna of Briarwood who now goes to NYU; and, Renee, a German-Jamaican model Massie befriended from a stint a couple of years before. Of course, Mikal was also there. "Cameron, babe! Sorry I didn't get your call. I was mixing up a batch of poison for these thirsty kids." She kissed Cam on the cheek after handing him a glass of single malt Irish whiskey.

It was clear that Massie was annoyed with him for some reason. Cold shoulder or not, he went to her anyway and kissed her forehead as greeting. The brunette frowned and pretended to be occupied with her poker chips. Cam laughed to himself and nudged her. She glared at him. "What's your problem?" Cam asked bluntly while pulling up a chair beside her.

"I'm quietly playing here. What's _your_ problem?" Massie asked back. She hated that he had to ask and she had to say it.

"Why are you in a bad mood?" Cam frowned this time because as usual, Massie was being stubborn. "Aren't you winning?"

"Isn't she winning? What are you saying? Dude," Dune Baxter jeered, showing with his two hands the only ten-dollar bill he had left. And not many chips. "This is practically robbery."

"Let's get you out of the game now, man," Landon suggested, putting out his cigarette.

"Four hours in and already dry there, love?" Rumi bustled, gesturing at her towers of chips to brag.

"Meanwhile, _I'm_ soaking wet" — Renee showed her cash — "_and_ done watching. I'll take your spot, kid." She patted Dune's shoulders to get him off his seat. "Get a drink."

"Mikal, you playing?" Cam asked. The girl in question was with Cory and Dempsey in front of an Xbox.

"No. Frankly, I'm just here for the free booze," the racially-ambiguous girl answered, not even looking up.

"And for the hot boys!" Cory added laughing. Landon winked at her from his seat.

"Boys aren't free, Cory," Massie teased. "I charge for all males in this venue."

"Pimp!" Conner exclaimed. He clinked beer bottles with James next to him.

"If it makes you feel better, you're worth extra," Massie smirked at him with fake tenderness, even pinching his cheek for effect.

She didn't want her irritation with Cam to ruin the party. She was still pissed at him for the other night. Even if _technically_, she was the one who ditched him by not showing up for their usual Friday movie marathon (which is tradition for when they don't have somewhere else to go to), he still didn't bother looking for her, did he? And Claire Lyons being at his house was not part of their thing. He didn't contact her at all the next day either—well, she didn't have a phone, but he should've found a way! He looked like he just showed up here at poker just because he felt like it.

_Whatever._ There was still a portion of the night ahead of them. Hence, she acted normal as much as possible. But that didn't mean she'd be paying any attention to her different-colored-eyed bestfriend. She thought he was dead the whole twenty-four hours he didn't talk to her. Of course she could be angry at him.

* * *

"This is almost $3,000. Spend it well, little dove," Massie announced, ceremoniously handing Mikal the bills. She walked back to the couch and settled alongside Dempsey Solomon.

Mikal walked to the center of the room. The crowd erupted in applause. She faked wiping a tear from her eye. "Thank you, thank you." She emptied her stemmed glass then cleared her throat. "Thank you for making possible my trip to Abu Dhabi."

"I didn't know this party was a fund-raiser," James pointed out, laughing at it just dawned on him that this was all a set-up to get their money.

Dune high-fived the Brit in agreement. "Robbery, like I said!"

"Shhh!" Cory interrupted their interruption, letting Mikal continue her speech.

"In the Middle East, I will go forth and 'find myself,'" Mikal even made air quotations. "At least what amount of 'finding myself' is worth these dollars my benefactor afforded me. I will keep in mind while I traipse in the desert that these life experiences wouldn't have happened if not for a bunch of prep school boys who didn't know how to play poker."

All of them had a laugh from that. Landon cranked the volume back up of a _The Pains of Being Pure at Heart_ song. They were done with poker, and what was left was activities that would make them pass out or fall asleep: drinking, chatting, dancing, making out? In any case, she and Cam were still not talking. She continued giving him the cold shoulder, and he appeared to have had enough and stopped approaching her. She wanted to punch him on the face.

* * *

Massie stumbled into her room and left the door open. Rumi was on her bed sleeping serenely. This friend could sleep through an apocalypse. She was sure of that because her red telephone was ringing noisily when she came in. She knew who this was, and, slightly buzzed, she could not restrain the excitement in her voice. "Hi!" _I sound fucking perky. Fuck._

"Block," he said cautiously. She knew he knew she was not being her usual snob self.

"How did you know I'll answer the phone? I'm having a party." It was in the middle of the night (almost morning?). How could the guy still be awake? Wasn't he at _his_ own party?

"Your friend Cory just drunk-called Plovert here. Mentioned your party, so I thought of you."

"You're kinda sweet… if I were into creepy stalkers."

"Aren't you?"

"I'm crazy, but not that crazy." She touched her warm neck and found herself smiling. Her smile turned into confusion when she caught a glimpse of Dune Baxter walking in the hallway outside her room, Skittles in all colors dropping out of his pants pockets. "Hold on. Yo, Baxter, stop giving away free Skittles for Chrissakes!"

She heard Derrick snigger from the other end.

"Glad you find this amusing, Harrington. You're not the one to clean up the floor. The Skittles get sticky."

"Is that a sexual insinuation?"

"Eww, no."

"Pardon me. I'm at the point in my life where everything is a sexual innuendo. … I quite like it here."

"Naturally."

"As do you!"

"I won't deny," Massie chuckled.

"How did you become friends with the lacrosse guys?" Derrick warily inquired. The soccer and the lacrosse teams were not friendly in Briarwood.

"I met Crane when Alicia threw a party for her cousin Nina? When she last visited? I beat his sorry ass at poker then. The idiot thought it's cute he lost $400, asked for my number, made me walk his dog, fed me his pot brownies, we touch each other occasionally—in some circles, they call that dating."

"Why do you like him? He's a tool."

"You're only saying that because he's like you and your friends."

"I don't think you can objectively speak of Landon Crane's appeal."

"I can! I'm not dating him anymore." His silence was signal for her to continue. "OK… Objective. … He had an aura about him that says 'I made a pact with Satan and all I got was this killer jawline.' Reputation-wise, he was evil—that's appealing enough, and with that facial structure, it's a landslide decision."

"Still sounds like a tool to me."

"Have you had a Landon Crane brownie?"

"Is that something sexual again, Block?"

"Remove your head from your sphincter, will you? This is nothing about sex."

"Fine, tell me about these _awesome_ brownies."

"The last time I had a Landon Crane brownie, I spoke to God, and He told me to shut the fuck up."

This earned another round of laughter from Derrick's end. She beamed proudly without realizing it.

"Mass, who are you talking to?" Cory was staggering from the hallway.

"Nobody. What's going on?"

"Landon is stripping. Renee and James don't like it. I don't mind, but what should I do?" If one knew Cory, one would know she was beyond drunk at this point. Her voice was a slur, and she speaks very slowly.

"Yell at him for me. Tell him to stop flashing my neighbors, you pig. This isn't your mother's living room in New Jersey," Massie said matter-of-factly to her friend, like this course of action was in an instructor's manual.

"OK. Cam's asking for you, by the way."

"What am I, a goddamn geisha? Ask him to go home."

"Nice, you're quite the party hostess," Derrick went on to compliment her. Sort of.

"Yeah, I excel at handling matters of the utmost unimportance," she added a tone of pride to complete her self-mockery. "Say, how did Plovert know Cory?"

"They hooked up once upon a time," Derrick replied.

_Of course, she's from St. Agnes. _"Oh, by Plovert you actually mean you?"

"No, by Plovert I mean not Derrick Harrington but Christopher Plovert with the thing for girls' nose jobs."

_Olivia Ryan_. That caused Massie to laugh for a good number of minutes. She hated that she was giving him the satisfaction right now of making her laugh. In this strange silly game they were constantly playing, she was losing—whereas before this, she was winning for making him laugh _twice_. She covered the receiver and composed herself but minded not to take too long. Before she said something, she thought, _but, hey, he doesn't seem to be keeping track of our score at all…_ "I'm surprised it wasn't you."

"Ouch, a plenty sum, but not _everyone_, Block."

"You're still repulsive."

"Part of my charm?"

"You must really love yourself." She was standing up now. She had reached at her drawer for the note that came with the telephone. _Not for its verdict / but to borrow its resolve_. "Hey, Derrick."

"Block?"

"Is this part of your charm?"

"What?" There was intrigue in his voice.

"You have a typo."

"Hmm?"

"In your poem. _Its_. It should be without the apostrophe. _Its resolve_."

"I reread that quite a lot of times. That's embarrassing."

She imagined his sheepish face and his hand running through his hair like it always did. She noticed these things. "Fuck that."

"I'm sorry?"

"Fuck that," she repeated. "Sentiment trumps pedantry. Always."

It took him a while to react. She didn't know what was going on, why the silence, but she did know her heart was beating so fast, it could explode. "Is that—finally—a thank you?"

She was quiet for a moment. "Thank you."

That warranted not a smile but an actual short laugh. Of amusement. Of _joy_. From him! "You're always welcome, Block."

She lied on the floor with red telephone cradled on her stomach. She could hear a song being played from where Derrick was. _I wanna hurry home to you, put on a slow damn show for you / to crack you up. So you can / put a blue ribbon on my brain. God, I'm very, very frightening. I'll overdo it._ She hummed along with _The National_, and Derrick just listened to her.

"That was a good song. Whenever I hear it, the music sinks in and lingers. It strangely makes me feel whole, as if it filled up the little unoccupied spaces in my heart. Like a healing process," Massie found herself saying. "I feel like being closer to things that I've lost."

"There should be a word for that kind of closeness."

"I know. There is no possible way I could describe it."

"It's mutually elegiac and optimistic."

"Precisely! It cuts through my bones not violently but _earnestly_." She cleared her throat. "You know how you sometimes don't get someone's music, come back to it, and just completely connect with it, in every kind of way, and you have no idea what changed or what wasn't there at the initial encounter? That's what happened to me with this band. I didn't like them _at all_ after the first listen."

"Block, that's a brilliant example of only being able to appreciate something when you find yourself looking at it up close."

Massie suddenly felt a lump in her throat. _When you find yourself looking at it up close_, his words repeated themselves in her head. "You're right," she responded meekly.

The silence this time took a while, but Derrick didn't seem to mind one bit. He was comfortable and didn't find it awkward by any means. "Are you thinking? About what I said?"

"No!"

His laugh was annoying. "You going to sleep?"

"You?"

"It's almost 4 now."

"Oh."

"You know, I'll be seeing you tomorrow, Block," he stated warmly. "Honestly, I can't wait. Thought the morning will come faster if I slept through the remaining hours."

"What?"

"Brunch, did you forget? It's Sunday." He snickered.

"That's true." _Shit._ "Good night?"

"Good night, Block."

She closed her room's lights, jumped into bed beside Rumi, and covered her smile with a pillow. The pillow could hide her face, sure, but it could do no containing whatsoever of her elation.

* * *

She knew Cam slept beside her in bed. She was half-asleep, but she felt his arms wrap around her. His hot breath tickled her neck and lead her to consciousness for a while. She caressed his arm. He was wearing a cashmere sweater, she a silk cami—she could feel its warmth directly on her back. _We'll be back to how we were._ He placed a soft kiss on her hair. And that was her last memory.

**A/N:** Credits for Derrick's poem to Massie (above) goes to _softfloors dot wordpress dot com_.

Thank you to **if dreams could come alive**, **how to forget**, **hawtjuicyaddict**, and **MourningMemories7** for taking the time giving feedback. Everyone, please don't hesitate to let me know what you think of the story. If there are any mistakes in this, please inform me right away-I wrote this in one sitting.


	13. Thirteen

**A glimpse.**

Alicia and Derrick halted their steps. A leggy brunette was scuttling out of the bedroom while jamming a bunch of dollar bills into her Nicole de Rivals bag. After she slammed the door closed, she fixed her bed head and put on her heels. She smiled at the two in acknowledgment prior to leaving. She wasn't Massie, no. She was Rumi, the last guest from the party last night to exit the premises. The others had gone much earlier. Any sign of the night before ebbed magically as well, thanks to the Blocks' housemaids. That included the Skittles Dune have scattered inadvertently in the hallway leading up to Massie's room.

The raven-haired Rivera daughter slowly opened the door to Massie's room. It was completely dark. Massie had thick heavy drapes covering her window. She didn't like sunlight interrupting her sleep, she knew that.

Derrick flicked the lights on. The room was all white: the floor, the ceiling, the furniture and fixtures. Even her bookshelf housed books with white spines. She must've painted and covered them in plastic. There was a platform with a claw foot bathtub, close to it a white side table with a large white scented candle and a book. The only pop of color came from a red rotary dial telephone which was on the floor beside a white throw pillow and a half-empty martini glass. He noticed this and immediately imagined her last night lying on the floor and staring at the ceiling while talking to him. Well, whatever good feeling he got from that memory got ruined not seconds later.

"Mass?" Alicia asked, now standing beside the bed. That's when Derrick saw: next to a sleeping Massie is a dark-haired boy lying on his stomach. His face was buried on the pillow, but he could tell who it was. The guy who was always with her wherever—apparently including the bed.

The half-asleep Massie whimpered. She covered her eyes with her right arm at once. Her left arm jostled her bestfriend alongside her, and as soon as it managed to reach his head of hair, whisked him awake. "Lights… fucking blinding… put out the lights."

Without getting up or even removing his face which was still slumped on his own pillow, said bestfriend uncaringly pulled out the pillow under her head and dropped it over her. The pillow was heavy and made a sound as it hit her face.

But it blocked out the light for her anyway, which is just what she wanted. "Thank you, baby," Massie mumbled, her voice drowsy. Her left hand rubbed his bare back as a sign of affection and then settled there.

Alicia heaved a sigh. "Seriously? Sweetie, your mom is going to freak. She's going to be in a terrible mood coming from her flight. You know she hates JFK. Both the airport and the man it was named after." Kendra was in LA for the week but would make it in time for brunch at Mark's new Tribeca condo.

The eldest Harrington son Mark had moved last week, and the mothers of their group were all too quick to pester him to throw his very first and very own brunch. The same brunch his younger brother Derrick was looking forward to since the morning when he hung up the phone, up until this point in time, the time his eyes set on a shirtless Cameron Fisher sleeping on Massie Block's bed.

He felt his chest tighten. He couldn't figure these two out. None of them did. _Are they or aren't they? Are they or aren't they?_ "I'll meet you outside," Derrick gruffly said before storming out.

He didn't need to be here.

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry if this is too short. This is the shortest chapter I've written actually. There are other scenes after this which I already have planned out but have not put into words yet. Just thought of posting this one as soon as I wrote it for the new batch of readers I've enticed from the last weeks! Another note, just to be clear about the hickey, I already referred to who really gave it to her in the earlier chapters (chapter 6?). As many have mentioned it in their reviews, I got inspired and thought of writing about that in the later chapters. So expect it to be addressed again next time! Thank you for reading. Let me know what you think please.


	14. Fourteen

**Give up tomorrow.**

* * *

Kendra Block was none the wiser about her daughter's tardiness or the party at their penthouse last night. Furthermore, whatever bad mood she had from her flight or from her having to be at the JFK airport this morning vanished when she saw the famous neurosurgeon Lucas Fisher's son joining them for brunch. In any case, Massie would take her mother bothering her best friend as long as she wasn't being irksome toward her.

Not that she was concerned, but Derrick seemed to be avoiding her. He did not say anything when he drove all of them to Mark's. He made his usual snarky remarks to his siblings and Alicia. He was being his usual sweet self to the mothers. He engaged in usual polite chat with the fathers. But to her, it was just like before. He ignored her; even when their arms brushed twice while touring Mark's place and again when they sat beside each other at the dining table. While she still felt edgy about being near him, she at least expected even the smallest interaction considering their last phone call. At least an inappropriate joke or an offhanded compliment intended to make her feel awkward. What was his deal? But then again, she didn't care.

She broke free from her reverie when she felt a hand take hers and lead her to Mark's veranda.

* * *

Mark Harrington directed his brother to the master bedroom to announce his big news: he was proposing to his girlfriend of five years, Emily Wells, tonight. Derrick never saw such resolve in his brother's face before. He knew Emily really was the one for him. More than resolve, Mark was excited. He looked like he could burst any minute out of joy. He wasn't the kind of man who wore his heart on his sleeve. But this was different. His _soon-to-be fiancé_ was different.

It was no surprise Mark was being sentimental today. "Derrick, I know you play around as much as I did when I was younger. In fact, I think you do more than I did. Enjoy it. That's what these years are for. But like everything else, it'll end. You'll have to move on, go on to the next phase. Can't do anything about it. It'll just happen. And one day you will meet her, too. Don't let her go."

Derrick took this opportunity to vent. Even though it was his brother's moment, and he should've just humored him, he couldn't help it something was bothering him. He needed someone to listen.

"How do I know when to give up? What if I'm just wasting our time? You know when you feel like you're in love with someone but you don't know what they want, so you end up pretending to not know what you want as well?"

Mark grinned. "Things won't happen exactly how you want to, Derrick. You know what they say; nobody writes songs about the ones that come easy."

His little brother snorted about how cheesy yet true that was.

Mark held Derrick's shoulders with both arms as he faced him. What he was going to say was important. "Really, if you let go of someone who would genuinely listen to matters that only seem important to you, like would people who have not an inkling of what Kill Bill is find the whistling just as creepy, or explaining how a Beach Boys-Beatles comparison should never be attempted, or describing in deep detail why Batman is best, or why Windows trumps the Mac, or how Zealots, Dark Templars and Corsairs can beat the Zerg, or why you sing, dance, paint, write, cook, bake, work, not work, study as hard as you do, study like you do, smoke, drink, do drugs—why is it you are that way—then, kid, that's your bad. Don't let her just pass by and leave. Don't be an idiot."

* * *

Cam slid the glass door closed then let go of her hand.

"Impressive. You managed to remove yourself from my mother's line of vision," Massie started the conversation lightly because she knew what they were about to talk about. And she really didn't want to talk about it. Right now, she was cornered by him. Her only way out was to jump off Mark's 7th floor railing and onto 1 York St, which obviously wasn't an option.

"Last night, why were you mad at me?"

"I was _not_ mad at you."

"What is it about? Tell me."

"It's nothing."

"You were pissed with the smallest things and bitchier than two dogs pooled. Something's wrong."

"You can't blame me. PMS is scientifically proven to cause temporary insanity. Mine just had an over-extended stay."

"Massie, you know what's worse than bullshit? Watered-down bullshit. Don't give me that."

She pursed her lips.

"I know you. It's not nothing. Tell me." He moved closer to her.

She faced down. "It's nothing. It's just…that I feel like I haven't seen you in weeks."

He looked puzzled. "We eat lunch every day."

"Yeah, but it doesn't feel like it. We haven't had a decent conversation since…" She stopped herself from mentioning Claire Lyons. "Can we not talk about this? We're openly talking about my clinginess. I'm the needy psycho friend, like that's a surprise. Don't mind me." Her cheeks were burning.

He kissed her on the forehead, and then stayed that way, his chin on her cheek. "I'm sorry. I've been busy lately. It's this thing I'm working on. My exhibit is next week, and my mom is feeling gloomy again. I'm pretty distracted."

"It's fine." She knew Cam knew she had mood swings. She was embarrassed she even made a fuss. She didn't want to be one of the things he had to worry about too. "Let's go in now. This has been sufficiently… sappy." She kissed his neck because she was too lazy to reach his cheek.

She made her way back in. "We're OK, aren't we?" Cam called out.

"Of course."

"Massie…"

"Come on, Cam."

"Massie…"

"If we hug, can we pretend I didn't go all Drama Queen on you?" She hesitantly extended her arms. They hugged.

She snickered. "Admit it, you just wanted to feel my boobs, didn't you?" He chuckled. "I know how you think, perv."

Cam appeared weirded out but decided to play along. "They're getting bigger." He swiftly poked her chest and gave an adorable _yeah, I can get away with it_ expression on his face.

"Uh, rude. Rudeness! Your mother will know about this!"

In a much lighter mood, they walked back to the huddle of the younger people who were eating desserts and drinking tea.

"There they are," Alicia announced as she rested her tea cup down.

Seated next to her, Sammi looked up from her milkshake and exclaimed, "I'm glad you invited Cam!"

"Yeah me too, on second thought, I wish you didn't. One of many downsides of Sunday brunch is there's always a couple that had sex that morning and tell you about it through body language," Mark joked.

Alicia scowled. Derrick was stoic.

Massie and Cam—who arrived not even in close proximity to each other, not touching or doing anything remotely couple-y—immediately looked at each other and immediately looked away.

"I have not had sex this morning!" Massie said unintentionally loudly. "Not that it's any of your business," she added in a lower voice.

Cam laughed while taking the seat next to her.

"My, my, I don't like that my baby girl is involved with carnal knowledge," Mark said with a fake-judging tone, giving her a reprimanding face as he was sitting across from her.

Massie stuck her tongue out childishly. "What? Are you going to tell the Pope?"

"She's agnostic," Cam brought up.

Alicia glowered at Mark. "Is it just me or is it creepy talking about sex with this pedo over here."

Mark shook his head but ignored her. "Does Kendra know about all this; your lack of religion, your advocacy for teenage copulation?" He proceeded talking to Massie.

Massie made a hand gesture as if to dismiss it. "Kendra's a WASP. She doesn't care."

"Oooh, that's not nice," Mark accused.

"Yeah, and you're a yuppie."

Mark pretended that the part of his chest where his heart is hurt.

"Leave her alone," Derrick said while playing with chocolate cake with his fork. "She's a normal hormonal teenager, Mark."

Cam smirked and gazed at Massie.

"You're a hormonal teenager, Derrick," Massie retorted, folding her arms, as if what he said was offensive. It didn't even make sense why she said that, just that she felt a comeback was needed. To amend her mistake, she promptly shifted topic. "FYI, Mark, I have had _Bed of Roses_ stuck in my head for the past three hours. I'm pretty sure this is god punishing me for my heavy support of premarital sex."

"'Atta girl."

"By the way, we saw your porn collection, man," Cam addressed Mark.

"You have excellent stuff in there," Massie approved. Mark allowed them to enter even his bedroom during the tour.

"You're welcome," Derrick beamed; he had great taste in porn.

"Great job, bro," Mark high-fived him.

Massie fake-coughed, she hadn't meant to compliment Derrick.

"Hey, remember that porn shop we went to in Japan?" Mark asked.

"When was this? Why wasn't I there?"

"You had food poisoning, Mass," Mark answered.

"I don't remember."

"Yeah, we had to stay at the hotel for days while you feel better. We watched some weird Japanese mannequin drama the whole time," Alicia supplied.

Massie made a recollection. "That drama is called _Oh! Mikey_. That was actually pretty amusing."

"So it was this porn shop in Tokyo. It was a five-floor wonder, and as one went higher up the building, the weirdness of the featured fetishes consequently escalated. The first floor was devoted to softcore, and the second to hardcore fucking. The third featured the kind of fetishes we think about when we think about fetishes," Derrick described.

"School girls, tentacles, lavish amounts of bodily fluids," Mark explained.

Derrick continued. "The fourth floor was devoted to the hella weird and hella sexual, the things you only overhear random conversations and have to stop yourself from googling."

"Rule 34 kind of stuff," Mark informed them.

Alicia and Sammi turned to each other bemused.

"Rule 34?" Alicia hated that she had to ask; _she_ usually knew things.

"Rules of the Internet, rule 34: 'If it exists, there is porn of it,'" Cam stated.

"Rule 35, baby," Massie murmured to Cam. Derrick instantly turned away when their faces got closer. "That one's a better rule."

The Spanish girl grimaced and waved for them to continue and not have her ask what rule 35 was.

Cam obliged. "Rule 35: 'If the porn does not exist, then it will be made.'"

Massie's smile was wicked, and she clapped quietly.

"Rule 36: 'If it exists, someone has a fetish for it. No exceptions,'" Mark said.

That one earned a disgusted look from Alicia. "Internet rules? Are those even real?"

"It's totally legit, Leesh. There are published material on it and everything," the brunette persuaded, like she was arguing about something scientific.

"These things are happening even if you don't have name for it," Mark promoted.

"Now the fifth floor," Derrick said, and he appeared eager to tell about it, "and this is what fascinates me, was full of videos of people doing ordinary non-sexual things. Most of the videos were of people fully-clothed. Twenty minutes of a woman brushing her hair. Forty minutes of a girl trying on shoes. Fifteen minutes of a man unbuckling his belt, and then buckling it again, over and over." He glanced at Massie who was so absorbed at this. "I like the thought that when fetishes get pushed far enough, they go right back into the ordinary world."

"That's pretty sexy," Cam noted ponderingly.

Massie was thinking the exact thing. She gave a small smile and nodded. "Yeah, it is." She sighed and fixed her gaze at Derrick. "Ah, I love it when your dirty talk turns into a conversation."

Derrick looked away from her. He didn't want to respond to that. There was a short hush.

Until Sammi broke it, "I heard Alicia caught you and Cam this morning." She was obviously milking out gossip, always reverting back to the topic.

Massie was quick to deny. "What? Pft! It's nothing. He was sleeping beside me."

Derrick frowned at Sammi. "I forgot she's still here. Sammi, go over there and text your friends." Cassandra will not be happy to know the boys were talking to Sammi about pornography.

"Make me," the only Harrington daughter snapped. She turned back to Massie, unconvinced about the information she was getting. "So really, what happened?"

Massie faced Cam disapprovingly. "Can you believe this?" She was shaking her head with her eyes away from the group.

Cam took this as to mean Massie was asking him to deal with the questions for her. "Nothing happened. We do it all the time," he offered.

Sammi squealed.

Mark laughed wolfishly. "Oh, you do it all the time, huh?"

Massie threw him a scrunched up dinner napkin. "Screw you, Mark. That's not what he meant!"

"Nope," Cam concurred innocently.

"You're ridiculous. Rumi was there too, sleeping with us last night, so stop with the speculation," Massie continued to defend herself.

"Threesome?" Mark raised his left eyebrow.

"I wish," Cam teased.

This earned him a strike on the chest by Massie. It was a hard knock, and Cam had a fit of both coughs and laughter. She disregarded him and turned to Mark and said, "Sorry, no. And your curiosity is creepy."

"Rumi…the Scottish chick with the website?" Mark inquired.

"The fashion blogger?" Sammi was familiar too.

"Isn't she Japanese?" Derrick asked.

"Her mother is from Scotland, Derr." Alicia knew her from Briarwood like the rest of them.

"She doesn't often wear a bra, does she?" Mark questioned pensively.

"No," Derrick answered. Alicia looked at him disapprovingly.

"We blew $500 on bras as gifts for her last Christmas, she never used them," Cam thought it was useful information to know.

"How did you know?" Massie pouted at her best friend.

"I know things." Cam returned his best friend's smile.

"I do, too," Mark offered.

Massie's face scrunched up as if to say _ewwww_. "Mark, you creepy fuck, she's my friend."

"What! I saw her website."

"He is creepy, isn't he?" Alicia sneered.

"Sorry for my brother," Derrick stated with a false sense of sympathy in his voice. Mark punched his shoulder.

Sammi was still unsatisfied. "You're so selfish, Mass! We just want to know about Cam," she whined.

"Sammi, I'm right here," Cam told the blonde.

"Yeah, Massie, just tell us," Mark said, putting her on the spot again. "Are you or are you not boning Fisher?"

Derrick stared at his plate.

Massie chuckled uncomfortably. "Hey, hold up, boys and girls. Can we like not talk about us? We're not on MTV."

"Can we not talk about sex with her around?" Everyone diverted their attention from Massie to Derrick. He was frowning at his younger sister.

"What, I'm in high school!" Sammi looked offended.

"You're a freshman, kid," Mark told her like she didn't know that.

"We're all in high school here!" Sammi still protested.

"Exactly, _we're_ in high school. Let's not talk about sex, period. So Mark, can you just walk away from the minors and stop corrupting us?" Alicia shooed him away.

Derrick jeered. "Funny you're talking about corruption, Rivera. I heard you and a friend of mine—"

"Shut up! Remember that you're _Derrick Harrington_," Alicia quickly replied. She said his name as if it were derogatory.

Mark caught onto this. He reached over to mess his brother's blond hair. "I'm proud of you, little bro."

"Leesh, what's your issue with sex? I mean, I lost my virginity to your brother… at your house. Probably while you were there, I can't remember. So I don't think the Riveras have some strict family code on this…" Massie shrugged.

Cam bit his lower lip and had an apologetic look on his face, as if to say_ I apologize for her, folks_.

"Oohhh." That was from Mark, of course. What a child.

Alicia appeared like she's had enough. She was talking sternly and slowly now. "Can you please never refer to what you do and did with my brother? Ever again? You're egging on this pig." Mark mouthed a sorry. "Plus, it's a scarring image."

"What, I think we're both hot, so the image shouldn't be very ugly…" Massie gestured her hand as to say _back me up here_.

"Oohhh." Again, that was Mark.

"Yeah, Eric's sexy. I had a crush on him until Massie started 'boning' him," Sammie thought she might as well add.

Derrick face-palmed.

"_Right?_" Massie pointed at Sammi in approval. "But I do think you're a fucking creeper, Mark. Step away from the kids' sandbox."

"I let this junior feel me up at our first formal…" Sammi began.

Mark abruptly stood up to leave. "OK, yeah, not listening to this. Derrick, want to grab a smoke?"

"I'm coming with you two," Massie uttered, standing up as well.

"I'm telling mom!" Alicia, Sammi, and Cam heard Derrick yell from the hall he, Massie, and Mark disappeared into.

Alicia drank her water, she seemed exhausted.

Sammi wasn't. She took the seat Massie had vacated beside Cam. "So… Cameron Fisher, if you don't say anything, something untrue and unpleasant about you will go viral online."

* * *

**A/N:** Some quotations in this chapter are unoriginal. The italicized one specifically told by Mark to Derrick is from Veronica Mars. Logan Echolls said those lines. I mean no offense to anyone in the writing of this chapter. I'm not sure if you readers are comfortable talking about sex, porn or religion considering The Clique is PG—then again this is FanFiction—I know, I know, these are usually taboo conversation especially during desserts, thus Alicia's reluctance to contribute, but I wish you enjoyed this chapter anyway.

So, which Internet rule is your favorite?

**Acknowledgments are in order:** Thank you, **Mo**, for working on this with me! And thank you to all my new readers especially Aly's bestfriend who recommended this to **Aly**. I never thought this was something to people would actually recommend. Thank you so much. I hope you stick around.


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